


Ash Tray

by Anonymous



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anti-Android Sentiments (Detroit: Become Human), Burns, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, Death Threats, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Hate Crimes, Hurt/Comfort, Kleptomania, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Touching, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Poor Connor, Post-Canon, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Hank Anderson, Self-Harm, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:45:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 73,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: [Define: ‘Burn’][Verb][Definition: ‘To be consumed by fire’]“Didn’t even fucking hurt, did it?”  Reed said, mouth stretching in a satisfied grin.
Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 430
Kudos: 696
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

Connor wasn’t even a deviant the first time it happened. Machines don’t care about cigarettes jabbed into it, they don’t care about the twist of the ashes embedding into its plastimetal chassis as the cigarette turns until it’s put out in its skin. Connor looked at the hole left behind when the bent end fell away.

**_[Temperature Warning!]_ **

**_[Minor Damage Detected]_ **

**_[Stress Level: ^^32%]_ **

It was black from the ashes and slightly burnt. The cigarette had gone out before causing any serious damage, but there was a slightly grooves and circular indent on the smooth plastic. The skin grew back over it with the cigarette gone, fizzling over the wound for a moment. The projected was faded and the burn was clearly visible underneath it.

**_[Define: ‘Burn’]_ **

**_[Verb]_ **

**_[Definition: ‘To be consumed by fire’]_ **

“Didn’t even fucking hurt, did it?” Reed said, mouth stretching in a satisfied grin.

The detective rocked back on his heels and moved away from Connor now that his cigarette had been put out on the side of the android’s wrist. Reed turned and grinned at Officer Chen, whose own smile seemed slightly strained and her expression pinched.

Connor tugged on its sleeve to cover the mark. Reed backed off, pleased with himself. His voice carried as he left the android there standing outside the bar. Mocks were thrown its way but Connor ignored them. They faded away into the bar as the door seung closed again.

It was left waiting for Lieutenant Anderson, who had an excuse to drink with a dozen police officers who were meeting in a bar for drinks. The sign on the front door was clear. 

**_[No Androids]_ **

The quarter had settled a foot away. Connor had been tossing the coin between its fingers when Reed stepped out of the bar for a smoke break, a few officers along the way. Connor was in standby, focused on the monotonous tasks of twitching its fingers in precise motions to catch and move the coin. The case files were scanned and reanalyzed with extra attention now that it was focused and left alone. It hadn’t noticed them approaching. Connor hadn’t been cautious.

It wasn’t seriously damaged. It wouldn’t impede the investigation. There was no need for repairs. There would be a general report of minor damage and Cyberlife would bill the precinct and it would be deducted from Detective Reed’s pay. It would discourage a similar incident in the future.

It wouldn’t happen again.

**_[Stress Level: ^37%]_ **

The scar was visible as its sleeve pulled back slightly. It picked the quarter up off of the sidewalk and returned to its previous spot. It could see the front door and the exit in the alley from this spot. It could see down the street. Connor stayed alert, focused on the surrounding area, on the people coming and going around it. The case files were left ignored for the rest of the evening as Connor watched the doors.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Connor rejoined the DPD, this time as a regular officer. A rookie, entry level. If he wanted to be a detective he had to pay his dues, Fowler had said. No shortcuts. He had to earn his experience. Just like a human and Connor felt satisfied with the fairness of it.

He had a uniform with a badge visibly pinned on the shirt. He put it all on for the first time, even put on the hat, and stared at himself in the mirror and smiled. Connor loved it, he thought he might like it more than anything else he had ever experienced, but he had said that a thousand times already.

Officer Miller was his newly assigned partner. They were about to go on patrol for the first time. He fingers tapped nervously against his chest as he made sure his buttons were even and his shirt tidy and wrinkle free. He was particular about those sorts of things. He wanted to make a good first impression. After all, this was the first time he was meeting everyone as himself and not as the RK800, as a person instead of a machine.

**_[Incoming Text Message…]_ **

**_[Hank Anderson: ‘Stop staring at yourself and hurry Chris is waiting in the car’]_ **

Connor smiled, his eyes lingering on himself for a moment more. This was a good first step. So soon after the revolution and his part in it and all the events leading up to it. He was free and he would be paid for his work. He got to be here. Markus had asked him personally to be a stabilizing element between androids and the police force.

He tried to brush the hair from his eyes one last time when the bathroom door swung open. It was early in the day, the bathrooms at the station weren’t that busy yet. Connor hadn’t been bothered in here until now.

The door was pushed open, squeaking as it swung back and forth. Connor could see the man who had entered from the mirror he didn’t even have to turn around.

“Good morning, Detective Reed,” Connor said calmly. He let his hands drop to his side.

**_[Stress Levels: ^39%]_ **

Connor watched with cautious interest. This was his first time being alive and having to interact with Reed. He knew from previous experience that the other human had a deeply rooted resemtment for androids. Connor hadn’t been treated well as a machine, but perhaps as a deviant, a legally recognized living being, they could be friends.

“Look at you, all dressed up like a rookie. And they're paying you. Ain’t that all some fucking joke?” Reed shook his head as he walked up to the wall of sinks. “This is the men’s room, you know. Do you even qualify?”

It was a standard question that many new deviants were to expect as they entered the workplace. They were legally allowed to own property, which meant that with demand almost doubling a lot of production companies needed to expand the workforce. There was a projected economic boom as the employment rate began to drop. And it was only two months after the revolution.

New Jericho was having meetings and workshops on how to integrate into working with humans instead as mindless slaves for them. Connor received a message about some socializing tips and how to cope with being the only android in the DPD. He was, of course, not invited to New Jericho for the workshops, but Markus had known he would understand why.

This wasn’t an entirely clean slate for him. He didn’t get a real fresh start. He was the deviant hunter.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” Detective Reed said, voice tight and angry.

“I assumed your question was rhetorical,” Connor said as he stared down at his hands, sticking them under the spray of water.

He heard Reed move, the scrape of his feet against the tiles, but he only moved to block the punch aimed for his face. He didn’t reciprocate the attack. Connor held tight to Reed’s wrist, the trembling fist lingering a few inches in front of his face.

**_[Stress Levels: ^43%]_ **

Connor flinched back as Reed’s other fist swung around and tried to aim for his stomach. Connor stepped back, his feet planted apart, and held both of Reed’s arms back by the wrists.

His processors analyzed the movements before Detective Reed could finish them. He saw the human slightly lean back, gathering saliva in the back of his throat, pulling slightly against Connor’s hands.

To move out of the way he would have to let go of Reed’s hands and leave him open to physical assault. To hold steady would leave him vulnerable to this. The only option left was to shove Reed back, put distance between them and flee. But if Reed stumbled, if he hit anything, if he went to pursue, it would only escalate the situation. It would be Reed against Connor and in the eyes of everyone else in the precinct, maybe even all of Detroit, would see it as a seasoned police Detective against a newly alive deviant android with a history of violence. It would ruin the purpose of Connor even being here.

The spit landed on his face. A wad of it landed directly on his cheek, right under his left eye. Connor gave Reed’s wrists a form squeeze, feeling the human’s delicate wrist bones grind together.

**_[Stress Levels: ^50%]_ **

Reed hissed and he kicked his foot out. It landed once against Connor’s knee before he finally let go and took three careful steps, two to the side and one step back. It put him in a clear path to the door and a bit farther from Detective Reed.

If he wanted to, he could run right out the door and find Hank. Connor didn’t want to be in here alone with Gavin Reed. There was always a high chance of physical aggression whenever he had to interact with the man. The likelihood rose extremely whenever they were alone, with few exceptions. 

**_[Stress Levels: ^56%]_ **

“This is all some huge fucking joke. This charade may be convincing people now but no one will ever believe you’re actually alive. Someone made you in a goddamn factory, you’re not real,” Reed said, his finger pointing accusingly at Connor. His voice had gotten low and steady while his body leaned towards the retreating android. “And now they’re paying you for it. Giving money to a damn machine. You know this whole rights thing, all it did was make it so Cyberlife won’t send me a bill when I-“

Reed’s voice died instantly as the restroom door was pushed open with a quick thud. Officer Miller leaned his head in and raised an eyebrow as he looked questioningly at Connor.

“Hey,” Officer Miller said. He paused for a moment, eyes pinning to Reed. “You ready to head out, Connor? I gotta show you the ropes. Don’t want to be late.”

Connor nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry I kept. I’m ready.”

He quickly walked towards Miller and out of the restroom. The air felt noticeably cooler and lighter. He felt like he could breathe easier.

“You good?” Officer Miller asked.

**_[Stress Levels: v39%]_ **

Connor’s hands rubbed gently against one another. His fingers prodded along his wrist. The error in his skin program was easy to feel , the burnt ridges of the plastimetal dug into his finger as he pressed against it.

“I’m fine,” Connor said.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


At the end of the day Connor felt lucky he had somewhere to come back to. It wasn’t his home, but he was welcome to stay. There was a relaxed atmosphere in the car as Connor chatted endlessly about how fun the day had been. Hank nodded along, chiming in between Connors rambles.

They got back to the house and unloaded their takeout food and a bag full of smacks. Connor had a few things hung up in the hallway closet and he needed to get out of his uniform and into something comfortable. He had a burgundy sweater, a thick yarn knit Connor liked to feel under his fingers.

He changed and rejoined Hank in the kitchen. The man already had a beer in hand. Connor pressed his lips together, jaw clenched, and said nothing.

Hank saw him, looking the android up and down once he had changed out of his uniform. Connor wondered if he looked different. He didn’t have very many clothes to change into, his Cyberlife uniform was in a box on the floor in the hall closet. He couldn't bring himself to throw it out, but he didn’t like how people looked at him when he wore it.

“Good first day?” Hank asked.

“It’s different from being a detective. Officer Miller and I spent quite a bit of time on patrol just driving. Occasionally we issued tickets for traffic violations. Whenever we were called in on a crime, things were usually easy to get under control,” Connor said as he summarized the day.

He likes being a regular officer. It required fewer of his investigative programs, but demanded more use from his body. He had to do more running and jumping. He could focus in pursuit or restraint, his mind wasn’t occupied wondering how or why the crime was committed.

“I did have a good day. Officer Miller was a wonderful mentor and we got our work done efficiently. I believe our chemistry as partners is reassuring and I hope that we can become friends,” Connor said. The series of statements came tumbling out as he went to sit down at the table.

Hank hummed softly. “Chris is a rookie, plus he's exhausted all the time. You know, because of the baby.”

“Yes, he spoke about Damian often in the car,” Connor said.

Hank smiled, bringing the beer bottle to his lips and drank. Connor watched curiously as Hank’s hands tightened on the bottle.

“He’s only a few months old. Chris is very fond of him. He showed me a lot of photos on his phone,” Connor said.

After they had left on patrol, Connor’s stress had a chance to drop. Miller had been very kind, almost gentle when interacting with him. There had been many times throughout the day where the officer’s voice would get soft and Miller would lean in close and Connor feared Miller would mention Reed. He hoped no one heard what Reed had been saying to him in the restroom. The words all lingered heavily in Connor’s mind, causing him to rub thoughtfully at the damaged spot on his wrist. He wasn’t a machine anymore, Reed wasn’t allowed to hurt him.

“He spoke very highly of you. I believe Officer Miller sees you as a role model,” Connor said, not wanting to silence to linger.

The bottle was empty when Hank placed it back on the table. He was already reaching for a second.

**_[Alcohol Content: 4.5%]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^33%]_ **

“A role model, you say? He’s dumber than I thought he was,” Hank said. He pulled his food closer with one hand and nudged a bottle of thirium towards Connor with the other.

Connor took it without question. “Miller is actually quite intelligent. He has a lot of admiration for you detective skills and your accomplishments in the DPD. You’re a good cop Hank, he recognizes that.”

Hank hummed. He took several slow bites of his takeout, washing it down with his beer, and not bothering to look up at Connor. They both ate in a routine silence. There wasn’t much else to say.

Their conversations were always stilted. They never got far, always talking about simple things. Connor had been staying with him ever since, two months on the couch with everything he owned shoved into the closet in the hall. Connor sighed softly. Perhaps they were just comfortable with each other and there wasn’t much left to say.

**_[Stress Levels: ^63%]_ **

“How was your day?” Connor asked.

Hank hummed again and shrugged his shoulders. “Same old, same old. People were murdered and I gotta figure out who did it.”

“I could help,” Connor said.

“Nah, it’s a pretty cut and dry case. The evidence is pretty clear, we already got a confession anyway,” Hank said. He kept eating and hardly glanced up from the food. 

Connor’s thirium levels hadn’t been low so he didn’t need the entire pack. He closed it and got up to put it away. He wasn’t hungry.

“Are you excited to be back? Is it what you imagined?” Hank asked, pulling back from his food and sitting up in his seat. He wiped his face with a napkin and let his fork fall gently to the table. His attention casually shifted to Connor.

**_[Stress Levels: v53%]_ **

“It’s too soon to tell. I was really nervous about the impression I would make, but once I left on patrol with Officer Miller It was better. He was very welcoming,” Connor said.

There were a thousand ways he imagined his first official day going. Miller had been polite when he was a machine, but that didn’t always mean he agreed that he was alive. Connor never knew how someone truly stood, he could only determine a risk analysis based on behavior. Officer Miller had been low risk and Connor was thankful his analysis was correct.

“He was? That’s good. I know he was nervous about it, he’s never really had an android before,” Hank said. His elbows came up to rest on the table as he hand swooped up his beer.

“It was nice to be treated as a coworker instead of a machine. It was more than I had hoped for,” Connor said. He turned back to face Hank, his hands folded neatly behind his back. He pushed up his sleeve with his thumb and pressed it against the circular scar on his wrist. Being threatened by only Reed was a relief. He had expected more hostility from everyone else.

Hank hummed as he set his empty bottle down. He was already opening a third beer. He leaned back over his plate of food.

“I'm glad it was good. I know it’s weird, being a street cop instead of a detective. It's quite a demotion but you need to start at the beginning,” Hank said. The fork hovered in Hank’s hand, circling around as he spoke, before going to jab at his food.

Connor nodded wordlessly. There wouldn’t be any further incidental with Detective Reed, Connor would be sure to avoid being alone with the man. He would stick with his partner, either Hank or Officer Miller, and he would avoid aggregating the man further.

Markus asked him to do this job and he intended for it to be a success. He had a mission and this time it was a good one. He just had to be the best first android in the DPD and make sure his people were safe. He couldn’t cause trouble.

There was no need to worry Hank about a single empty threat. Connor smiled and turned to leave.

“I’ll take Sumo for a walk so you can finish,” Connor offered, eyeing the case of beer Hank seed intent on drinking with dinner.

“Have fun,” Hank said as he focused back on his plate. “Be careful.”


	2. Chapter 2

Officer Miller had a drastically different taste in music compared to Hank. It was slower, the bass vibrated through the car as they drove around. It had been a pleasantly slow day. There were no calls about robberies or assaults, no drugs or guns or hate crimes. Just a few traffic stops as the cruised around.

That was what Miller had called it. ‘Cruising around’ as if they were teenagers enjoying an afternoon out as friends.

**_[Define: ‘Cruise’]_ **

**_[Verb]_ **

**_[Definition: ‘To sail about an area without a precise destination’]_ **

“See, this is old school kids like you don’t know anything about this,” Officer Miller said as he pointed at the radio. His phone was wirelessly connected as he played songs from his personal playlist and asked for Connor’s opinion.

It was the end of their first week together as partners, the tension had yet to settle down. He wasn’t sure if they were becoming friends or not. It was still only two months since the revolution. Connor had only been alive for two months. His only experience with music was minimal at best. This music was different from Hank’s.

**_[Sampling Music. . .]_ **

His opinion on the matter would affect their work relationship. Connor wanted to get along well here.

**_[Scanning. . .]_ **

“This song is from the well known hip hop girl group  _ Salt-N-Pepa. _ This particular song was released in 1987, nearly twenty years before you were born,” Connor said as each fact if the song and musical group listened itself before his eyes.

The music kept playing, the upbeat tempo of the song made Connor feel like his thirium pump was skipping as the music vibrated the car. He turned his eyes to Officer Miller and scanned his reaction.

Hank had given him advice, though Connor had his doubts. The key to making friends is to spend time with someone and Connor is spending several hours a day, five days a week, with Officer Miller. That amount of time could either make them friends or have them hate each other. There was a thin line between friendly and annoying and Hank had insisted far too many times that he was annoying.

Miller’s nose wrinkled, his head tilted to the side. Perhaps Connor had done it wrong. Hank hated it when Connor brought up his age, Miller was younger but perhaps he also didn’t like it.

**_[Stress Levels: ^22%]_ **

The moment passed and Miller’s face twisted into a grin and he dissolved into chuckles. He reached out and slapped Connor’s shoulder.

“Touche!” Officer Miller said as he laughed.

They set the radio on low and kept on driving. They were halfway through their shift and nothing was coming through. It was the kind of day where the hours passed by at a snail's pace. The music changed from one late 20th century pop or hip hip hit to the next and Officer Miller quizzed Connor in the trivia of each one.

There was no sense of hostility. There was no aggression. All of Connor’s past experience with Officer Miller had been polite and pleasant so it was difficult to tell if he genuinely saw Connor as a coworker or if he was just good to androids in general.

“Hank tells me you’ve never had an android before,” Connor said during a lull in the music.

There was another nose wrinkle. Connor waited, trying to decide what the expression meant, but Officer Miller simply shrugged and focused on the road.

“No, I never got one.”

Connor hummed. “Was it due to anti-android sentiment?”

“Why?” Officer Miller asked quickly. His hands gripped tighter on the steering wheel. “Do I come off that way?”

**_[Stress Levels: ^29%]_ **

“Androids are just now returning to the workforce. Jericho has been preparing everyone for workplace hostility.” Connor said calmly. He let his hands rest on his lap. His fingers sought out the spot on his wrist and his eyes scanned the passing scenes out the window before he turned back to face Officer Miller. “I apologize if I was too forward.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Miller said. His tone was fast. It was usually a sign of discomfort.

“You have been very kind. I was just curious about how you feel about androids. This was supposed to come across as small talk.” Connor said. His finger pressed more firmly against his wrist, his fingernail scraping against the ridges of the old burn.

“You wanna see if I’m going to be nice to you, right?” Chris asked. 

Connor’s mouth opened and closed. It felt like his thoughts were delayed, all of his social programs stuttering. He didn’t have a clear mission, he didn’t know the objective. Connor felt like he was drifting aimlessly in the conversation without direction.

“You have been very welcoming, Officer Miller. And kind. I just simply wanted to know more about you and I was hoping we could be friends,” Connor said. Part of him was worried of ridicule. It was an irrational fear that Officer Miller would take the offer of friendship as a joke. If that was the case then Connor would be fine with a pleasant partnership.

“Yeah, Connor. We’re friends. You know when my birthday is so that makes us friends,” Officer Miller said, nodding along as he and quickly flipped on the lights. The car they had been following was speeding in a school zone by 12mph and Miller, a new father, wanted to discourage that.

It was such a simple requirement. He could have asked Connor for anything. The conditions of their friendship could have been anything else, Connor was capable of doing a great number of things, but Miller seemed to be content with the bare minimum.

He didn’t get to ask Officer Miller for clarification on the matter. The man was out of the car and walking towards the BMW they had just pulled over. Connor ran the plates. The driver had two parking tickets and a suspended license.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Connor liked the end of each shift. He got to sit at his desk right beside Hank’s and they each mulled over their work day. Hank discussed his cases and complained about every little thing that crossed his mind.

Today Hank was particularly annoyed about someone who sped through a red light and nearly t-boned him. Hank rambed about it, his language growing more and more erratic and angry. He had completely forgotten his paperwork and Connor knew he needed to get him back on track.

Connor skipped over the details of his day. He didn’t tell Hank about Officer Miller’s musical tastes or the seventeen new photos of Damian in shark pajamas. He brought up the handful if traffic stops. Then he briefly mentioned the burrito place where they stopped for lunch.

“Burritos?” Hank said, leaning in and holding his hand out, stopping the flow of Connor’s words.

Connor nodded. “Yes, it was a truck that he enjoyed. Anyway, you should continu-“

“Can you eat burritos?” Hank said as he cut Connor off again.

“No.”

Hank snorted through his nose. “No? So you just sat there and watched him eat?”

“We talked as well. The taco stand didn’t have thirium available for purchase and my supply was more than efficient. The lunch break was really just for Officer Miller,” Connor said. He let the silence linger for a moment so his mind could moonder the reason for the interruption. “Anyway. You should continue your paperwork. If you set a decent pace and make progress we can be home within the hour.”

“Ugh.”

Hank grunted. His weight fell back into his chair and it spun until he was facing his computer screen. It was clear what the conversation was. Hank wanted a distraction. He would either put off his work until it was too late and he could go home with the promise to finish on Monday. Hank was always getting farther and farther behind.

“At least get me a cup of coffee,” Hank mumbled.

Connor smiled and nodded. He was already finished with his work. He had clocked out a while ago and was just waiting for Hank to get done.

Without another word he marched to the breakroom. There were fewer people here, it was the end of the day and not many people were looking for coffee. There was no one else in the breakroom as Connor picked up the cup and began to fill it.

It was Friday. The sooner Hank finished the sooner they could go home and enjoy the weekends. Connor liked the quiet weekends. Before he was allowed to return to work he had spent so much time holed up in the house. When Hank was home it was fun and Connor didn’t feel as lonely.

Connor felt the hand on his shoulder before he heard footsteps following him. It was a quick movement but Connor felt the fingers dig into his shoulder. He was pulled one direction and then quickly shoved the other. His feet tripped over an obstacle that shouldn’t have been there.

His left arm shifted, trying to move out of the way before it was crushed between his body at the hard tiles on the floor. He needed to change the angle. By just a fraction of a second he wasn’t fast enough. The sudden snap of his arm could be felt vibrating past his shoulder and into his chest. The plating had cracked under the sudden force.

**_[Stress Levels: ^^48%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Damage Detected!]_ **

**_[Running Threat Analysis. . .]_ **

“Fuck, I  _ heard _ that. If you were alive I bet that would have hurt,” Detective Reed said. He was standing over Connor, towering over him.

“Get away from me,” Connor whispered quickly. He rolled into his stomach, away from Reed, and pushed himself up onto his knees.

**_[Temperature Warning!]_ **

He flinched when he felt the hot coffee poured over his hair. It dripped down his face and neck, into his eyes and it soaked the collar of his shirt.

Connor jumped to his feet and his hands flew up to his face to try and wipe the coffee away. It wasn’t burning, there was no damage, but he still sensed the heat on his skin.

**_[Stress Levels: ^57%]_ **

Hands grabbed handfuls of Connor’s shirt and pushed him towards the side. He tried to shove the hands off, moving to turn and slap them away, but he was quickly shoved against the wall. His arm was jerked roughly as Reed pressed against him, holding him against the wall.

“Deviancy made you clumsy, huh? Tripping over your own feet,” Reed grunted close to his ear.

Connor flinched as the faucet turned on next to him, the water pulsing out. A damp paper towel dabbed at the coffee off of Connor’s cheeks. He leaned in close and smiled. So close, he could see the faded shake if the scar over Reed’s nose, the stubble poking out if his cheeks. Reed was grinding his teeth and his eyes were wide.

“You pushed me. Assaulting a fellow officer will result in your-“

“You’re not human. You’re not alive. Do you think they give a shit?” Reed said. He was smiling, the paper tower wiped down the side of his face, curving around his forehead towards his cheek. “Fowler already thinks you’re broken. Remember before that fucking revolution the machines pulled together, you failed to solve your investigation. A detective android that never solved a case. You were a waste of time. What’s he gonna say when you’re glitching so bad you trip over your own feet?”

Connor didn’t like the hands on his face or the body pressed against him. He had the strength to shove Detective Reed off of him and get enough distance between them to run. He could get Hank. He would help. Connor just had to push back.

“You pushed me,” Connor said again.

Reed shrugged his shoulder. “You know how many people don’t want you here? Some broken machine pretending like it feels anything, acting like it deserves to be here. You're not fooling me. You’re not alive.”

**_[Stress Levels: ^61%]_ **

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 47%]_ **

“A few months ago and Anderson thought the best purpose for an android was for target practice. Miller’s nice to you but he's nice to a houseplant. Fowler does what the laws say,” Reed said quickly. His voice grew quiet.

He kept gently wiping away the coffee that had spilled over him. It was still matted into his hair and streaked down the back of his neck. Reed never broke eye contact, he never eased the weight he used to pin Connor in place.

“What are you doing?” Connor asked.

“I’m just trying to make sure you understand your place. Androids are forgetting these days. Don’t start thinking you belong here.”

The temperature dropped as Reed took four long steps back. He let go of Connor, tossing the paper towel into the trash, and grinned from ear to ear.

“Now try not to be so clumsy. Hate for you to get damaged.”

He turned and left, marching from the breakroom with an air of self-satisfaction.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_[Self-Repair: 17%]_ **

Once Hank insisted he was finished with his paperwork, they went home. The crack in his left arm would take a few days to seal itself together. There would be a scar in the plating and it would be as durable. It would break easier next time.

It was mild-moderate damage. The crack was superficial and there was no damage to his circuitry or motor joints. There was no cause for concern and it wouldn't affect his work.

Hank didn’t need to know.

It would only cause issues. Hank always sought out the worst course of action and Connor didn’t want to be the cause of another disciplinary report in Hanks. Detective Reed was right. Captain Fowler would rather not deal with the trouble of having Connor here, he just wasn’t allowed to refuse to hire him on the basis of him being an android and Connor had all the skills and was able to pass each and every test. Perhaps he was right about Officer Miller and the man was simply kind and polite. And maybe Hank’s fondness of him was a phase. One day everyone will open their eyes and remember that Connor was a machine.

Fingers snapped in front of his eyes and Connor flinched back. He blinked quickly. Hank stood over him, jaw clenched.

“You good?” Hank asked.

**_[Stress Levels: ^39%]_ **

“I’m fine,” Connor said.

Hank hesitated. His nose wrinkled. He was waiting for an answer and Connor didn’t have one for him. At least not one that would make any of this easier. Hank would only be upset.

“I was just lost in thought,” Connor said. He shifted his hands slightly on his book. His left arm didn’t turn as well, the damager alert danced in front of his eyes.

**_[Self-Repair: 17%]_ **

It would take days. The synthetic skin felt itchy, like the constant buzzing of static over the crack. He hadn’t looked at it yet. He wondered if it broke through the projection and left a visible scar. He would have to hide that.

“You looked all spaced out, like you did before.” Hank said slowly. His tone was low, curious but cautious.

**_[Stress Levels: ^42%]_ **

Connor knew what Hank meant by  _ ‘before’. _ He meant back when Connor was a machine, the deviant hunter. Back when he would slip deep into the Zen Garden and give his reports to Amanda. Before the revolution, when Connor wasn’t considered alive.

“This is different. My thoughts seem to be drifting. It must be due to deviancy, it does seem to make a lot of our software unstable,” Connor said softly.

Hank chuckled, pulling back again. “Yeah, emotions will do that.”

He had been drinking, but his blood alcohol content was still below the legal limit. It was still early in the night and Connor had come to expect Hank’s inconsistency. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Hank opened the cabinet to take out the bottle of black lamb and one glass. The empty beer can was tossed into the trash. Connor turned back to the book in his hand.

**_[Stress Levels: ^45%]_ **

It was a comic book, one of those big volumes with a whole series bound together. He had found Hank’s old collection in the garage, taped up in a cardboard box buried under many other forgotten things. Connor had organized the entire house as he waited for the two months since the revolution to be allowed to return to the DPD. Every room except for one.

“Why are you so quiet tonight?” Hank asked, once again pulling Connor from his thoughts.

He had been rereading the same dialogue box again and again. Connor was being more quiet. His body felt heavy and his arms weighing him down. He had taken a shower as soon as he got home, his eyes closed and his head ducked forward until he was sure all the coffee was washed away. His uniform was in the hamper. Connor put on a long sleeve shift and avoided looking at his arm. In a few days the self-repair would be complete and it would be like it had never happened at all. He didn’t need to see it until then.

“Usually by now you would have mentioned how many beers I have. You usually have more energy, talking more. Hell, you haven’t once asked about my cases since we got home. It's unlike you.” Hank shrugged his shoulders, pouring the whiskey into his glass.

“I guess I’m feeling a bit tired. I will have plenty of rest this weekend. It is kind to be allowed two days off,” Connor said.

“It’s normal to get two days off,” Hank said. He took a drink.

Connor hummed and nodded. His eyes drifted over the page without really looking at any of it. He didn’t need a bookmark, he always remembered what page he left in, the information tucked safely in his memory. He should go to sleep. His self-repair ran quicker when he was in standby.

But Connor’s place was on the couch and Hank had only just started drinking. It was too early in the evening to go to bed. Hank wouldn’t want to and this was his house after all.

He closed the book. He wouldn’t be able to focus on it anymore today. He leaned forward and set it on the coffee table.

There was no reason he had to disturb Hank. He could just sit up on the couch and enter standby and Hank didn’t even need to know. He could drink in peace without Connor bothering him tonight. And he wouldn’t have to think so much. It would be quiet in his head and he would wake up a bit more healed and it would be a bit easier to ignore Detective Reed for the rest of the weekend.

**_[Stress Levels: ^51%]_ **

“Hank?” Connor whispered.

The truth was on the tip of his tongue. He could taste it. It would be so sweet to tell him about today, about Reed cornering him in the breakroom and the damage he had sustained. Connor would have to tell Hank about the shove and the spilled coffee. He would have to tell Hank about how Reed pinned him to the wall and dabbed the coffee from his face and all the cruel things he muttered with a smug grin.

Connor would have to tell Hank about the burn.

His thumb dug into the circular scar. He had memorized the shapes of the ridges in the plastic. His scarred and glitching skin itched, demanding attention, urging him to prod at the mark.

**_[Stress Levels:^54%]_ **

“Do you like your job?” Connor asked.

Hank shifted in his seat and tossed back the last dribble in his glass. He hesitated for only a moment. “Yeah, all things considered, I really do.”

“Is it worth all the stress?” Connor asked.

He was asking the wrong person. Hank’s blood alcohol level had risen past the legal limit the past few minutes, it had been edging close to it for a while. But there was no one else to ask advice from, everyone else Connor considered to be a friend was held at arm's length. There wasn’t another police officer Connor knew that he would trust to answer such a personal question. At this point Hank had to be used to them.

Hank cleared his throat. “When you love what you do and it feels like you’re in the perfect job and you’re passionate about getting it done, then yeah. If being a cop makes you happy because you like it, not because you were built for it, but really like it then I would say it's worth it”

“How do you handle it though?” Connor asked. 

It was too soon to tell if he really enjoyed police work. For now it was fun and exciting but Detective Reed was making it difficult. He didn’t want to quit over one man, it would just cause problems between the police and Jericho if he had an issue with his human peers so soon.

“I don’t know,” Hank said as he shrugged his shoulders. “Get an outlet.”

Hank went back to pouring his drink, gaze focused in his cup as he filled it a bit higher than last time. Connor rested his hands on his lap. His fingernail hooked against the deeped ridge of his burn. He picked at it, his nail fitting snugly in the curved burnt plastic.

He would just go to sleep. He wouldn’t have to worry so much. He wouldn’t have to be so stressed. He would handle things in the morning.

Connor leaned back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. He heard the soft thud of Hanks cup being placed back on the table.

**[Stress Levels: ^59%]**

**[Self-Repair: ^18%]**

**[Entering Stasis. . .]**


	3. Chapter 3

**_[Self-Repair: ^37%]_ **

It was taking longer than Connor would have prefered. It was uncomfortable. The small ripples in the skin projection had healed entirely in just hours. The plating underneath was still far from healed. It was slightly dented, misaligned only slightly. It could be repaired but the easiest and cheapest option was to have it replaced.

Connor never mentioned the damage to Hank. His self-healing was sufficient, nothing needed to be replaced, and he would manage at work in the meantime. For now he just had to protect the damage until the healing process was complete.

Still, small errors appeared if he bent his hand too far back or if he twisted his arm too far. A constant annoyance, the slightest bit of pressure on the damage and his HUD would flash red. It was bothersome and distracting. His attention tended to linger on the damage.

**_[Self-Repair: 37%]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: 21%]_ **

It was still only Saturday. There was still all of tomorrow for the self-healing to run its course. It was stabilizing, he was able to gradually increase use of it. No one would even notice he wasn’t favoring it. There was no need to mention it again.

In every risk analysis Connor ran the rate and intensity of violence increased drastically in hypothetical scenarios where Connor reported the incident. Those were scenarios that Connor would rather avoid.

He just had to try harder to keep his distance.

**_[Warning! Proximity Alert]_ **

There was the heavy sound of footsteps behind him, snapping Connor from his thoughts. A risk analysis began to scan the area, picking apart the sound of the footsteps as well as the size and brand of the shoes when he finally saw them. The plate slipped from his soapy hands and shattered against the floor.

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis. . .]_ **

**_[Chance Of Further Violence: 17%]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^28%]_ **

Hank was staring. The broken pieces of the plate had scattered across the floor, some tiny pieces lingering too close to Hank’s bare feet. Connor’s attention drifted over them, the jagged pieces of porcelain. 

“Don’t move,” Connor said quickly as he moved to grab the broom and dustpan. 

Hank took a step towards him, feet moving precariously over the shattered plate. His eyes watched where he put his feet but it only pushed Connor to move faster.

“Stop moving, Hank. You’ll step on something,” Connor said as he quickly started to sweep up the mess. He scanned every single piece he swept into the dustpan and pieced the plate back together in his mind in an attempt to make sure he had every single one. Any piece that was forgotten or missed became a hazard.

“Connor, it’s okay,” Hank said. His hand landed on Connor’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “You’ve never dropped anything before.”

The statement was unexpected. Connor’s memory automatically pulled up the answer. He had never dropped anything, not on accident, not without meaning to. He looked down at his hands, both still clutched the broom. His grip was firm, his hands fine tuned to apply the perfect amount of pressure for whatever task he needed. The plate should have never slipped through his fingers.

“I haven’t,” Connor said. “I don’t understand.”

**_[Self-Repair: 37%]_ **

Hank couldn’t know. The complications of him knowing would derail Connor’s career. Hank would want to bring attention to the situation. He would want confrontation. Given the extensive disciplinary report in Hank’s file, Connor doubted he would want to bring Fowler or HR into this. Hank would want to confront Reed directly, which would likely increase the possibility of future violence.

He turned slightly. Connor shifted on his feet to turn his damaged arm away, as if to hide it from Hank’s view and shielding him from somehow seeing through Connor. Hank simply shrugged.

“You know, dishes are slippery when they get wet,” Hank said. He was laughing, a wide grin had spread across his face. “Did they not teach you that at android school?”

Connor looked away from Hank.

**_[Stress Levels: ^33%]_ **

“I didn’t mean to break it,” Connor said quickly, his eyes dropped to the dustpan filled with broken and jagged shards. “I’m sorry.”

“It was an accident. Happens. I break shit all the time,” Hank said.

He didn’t seem angry. His body language was loose and relaxed. Hank almost seemed intrigued, his soft smile indicated he was pleased about something. He shouldn’t be happy about Connor destroying his personal property.

“I can pay to replace it,” Connor said.

Hank turned away and moved towards the fridge. “It’s not that serious.”

Connor hesitated a moment. He should go outside and dump the shards in the trash. He should go back to cleaning the dinner dishes. There was no reason he had to bring attention to the fact that Connor had done something wrong. He had allowed himself to be careless. He had not applied the right amount of focus to the task at hand to properly do the task and it resulted in Hank’s plate being broken and him nearly stepping on the pieces.

Hank leaned into the fridge and grabbed the plate of leftovers and he hooked his fingers into the plastic handles of a six pack.

Connor decided not to say anything. He didn’t want to provoke- Connor shook his head and bent down to grab the dustpan. His systems always jolted at the sudden drop in temperature. All of his sensors picked up the change in environment. It bombarded him with a wave of new data on everything around him; from the safest path down the icy walkway to the exact number of windows that still had a light on.

He focused on the trashcan near the street. 12.613 feet away, the exact distance displaying alongside everything else.

**_[Task 1: Dispose Of Hazardous Objects]_ **

**_[Task 2: Return To The Dishes]_ **

Once the pieces were dumped in the outside garbage the first task was marked as complete. His sensors settled down. It was quiet.

**_[Stress Levels: v26%]_ **

He was satisfied. Connor would have to double check the area in case of any error in his scans. He wanted to make sure there was nothing Hank would step on, anything that would make him more upset over his damaged property.

Connor returned to the house and went back to the soaking dishes in the sink. Sitting in the counter next to the sink was a dirty plate, the same plate that Connor had put the leftovers from dinner on. He turned around and silently looked at Hank sitting on the couch, a different plate piled high with food.

The man’s head tilted back, chugging his beer as if it were water. Connor took the dirty plate of the counter and set it in the soapy sink water.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Connor had been invited to New Jericho three times. There was a lot of dilapidated and abandoned property in Detroit and the city graciously donated much of it to newly free androids. In the few months they had occupied it a community effort brought the main building back to code and had started full operations for Android benefit. Jericho had settled down as it grew and rebuilt.

The first time Connor had been invited here after the revolution was to be asked about his living arrangements. He had been asked where he had gone and if he was safe. They asked him if he prefered to stay there.

For a moment, Connor had thought they would tell him to stay. Most androids in Detroit stayed with New Jericho in one of those renovated and repaired buildings or houses. Connor thought perhaps they had a room saved for him. When he said he didn’t mind staying with Lieutenant Anderson, their stress levels fell slightly. They seemed relaxed by that. They didn’t ask him to stay and Connor didn’t ask if he had a place there.

The second time he was invited was right after androids were given the right to work. They asked him to return to the DPD in an attempt to build trust between androids and the police. Connor was just excited to be useful. They were grateful. Connor felt welcome.

This time was much like the others. As soon as he stepped foot on New Jericho property he sensed the eyes on him. Androids moved from building to building, along the streets, and some gathered and talked in groups. They were going about their day to day lives and Connor walking through New Jericho must have been a disruption.

Their eyes lingered on him as he walked by. Their whispers drifted around him but he didn’t allow his advanced hearing to pick the words apart. He didn’t want to hear what they thought of him. 

**_[Stress Levels: ^27%]_ **

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis. . .]_ **

He dismissed the alert.

The main building was towards the edge of the district, close to the river, and one of the few fully functional structures in the area. From the outside it was hard to distinguish it from all of the other buildings around it. It blended in.

He knew where to go after checking in with the receptionist. It was the same meeting room. He had only seen a few areas in the building and Connor didn’t want to take the liberties of showing himself around.

Josh and Simon were both waiting for him. They sat on one side of a small conference table. There was a window behind them, the sunlight brightened the room, sending their shadows across the table to Connor’s seat. They both stood to greet him, hands darting out in offering. It was more of a tight squeeze rather than a shake.

“How have you been since the last time you stopped be?” Simon asked.

Both of their eyes were pinned to Connor. The weight of the attention made him shift slightly and Simon’s eyes dropped to Connor’s neatly folded hands on the tabletop.

“I’ve been fine,” Connor said.

“Fine? That’s good. You’re being treated well?” Simon said. He stared down at Connor’s hands as well for a moment as if waiting for him to do something with them.

**_[Stress Levels: ^30%]_ **

“I’m being treated fine. In regards to my work, I am establishing a positive relationship with my partner, Officer Miller. There is no change in my current relationship with Lieutenant Anderson.” He nodded to himself as he spoke.

“And what about the rest of the police department? I certainly hope the rest of your coworkers are as welcoming,” Josh said.

Connor wondered if they somehow had figured it out that he was hiding something. 

“Most of my work in the station had been uneventful. I’m ignored most of the time, I think most of them aren’t sure how to respond to my presence.” Connor said. He didn’t mention Detective Reed. He didn’t want that to hinder his work. Jericho requested this of him, for him to try and make it safer for androids around law enforcement, and to try and create an understanding. If they knew he was having social issues they would look to replace him. He would be useless.

Josh smiled, nodded his head quickly, and said: “It’s going to be a while until the humans settle into the idea of us truly being alive. I am relieved to hear you’re working with people who are trying to be more accepting.”

“And what about how you’ve seen your human peers interact with other androids? Would you say androids are receiving fair treatment?” Simon asked.

Connor was thankful for the change of subject. It was good he didn’t have to do it himself. He did not want to talk about Reed.

**_[Stress Levels: ^33%]_ **

**_[Self-Repair: ^51%]_ **

“There have been several instances in which police have used excessive force on android suspects. I have reported the incidents as per the protocol set by my employment DPD and their partnership with New Jericho.” Connor could not share too many details about the reports until the internal investigations are complete, but they were allowed to know how Connor’s concerns with android safety in the police department.

“Have your duties to New Jericho caused any complications with your fellow officers?” Josh asked.

Connor tilted his head to the side. “My work has been above satisfactory.”

“We don’t mean the quality of your work,” Simon said with the shake of his head.

“Have any of the officers at the DPD tried to discourage you from reporting unfair treatment of androids?” Josh asked.

“My reports are filed anonymously. There have been no complications regarding it,” Connor said.

Josh smiled, his eyes drifting curiously over Connor. He felt like he was being scrutinized, picked apart. What did they think of him now that he wasn’t a new deviant or the machine hunting them. Connor didn’t know what he was now.

Both Simon and Josh spoke to him kindly and their smiles always seemed genuine. Still there was always a noticeable distance. Their eyes lingered on him with caution, their bodies always slightly turned away, and Connor couldn’t blame them. Despite their discomfort towards him, Connor appreciated their kindness.

“If anything ever happens please report it to us.” Josh said. He stood up and held his hand out to Connor with a gentle smile. “It’s our job to make sure all of our people are safe.”

Connor left with a final brief goodbye. He walked down the same hallway and wished the receptionist a good afternoon on his way out. The stares and whispers of the other androids around followed him the entire way. He never wanted to focus enough to listen.

He was ready to go home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It had been called in. Connor and Officer Miller happened to be the closest to the scene. A neighbor had heard screaming and banging from the apartment next door late into their shift.

It had been very quiet except for the occasional call here or there. Mostly drunks. Most of them were harmless. 

The apartment was quiet as they walked up to the door. Connor was the one who stepped up to the door, waiting a moment as he listened for anything on the inside. There was nothing. Not a single sound within the residence.

Miller looked around, up and down the long hallway. There was no one there. Not a single bit of movement, no one peeking out to spy on them. Connor sensed only two at the peepholes of their apartment doors. One of the likely the caller.

Connor’s fist banged loudly on the door three times. 

Silence.

**_[Stress Levels: ^37%]_ **

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis. . .]_ **

**_[Running Investigative Analysis. . .]_ **

“Detroit Police, we’re here to check in.” Connor waited for a sound. “Is everything alright?”

There wasn’t a sound. Not even the creak of floor boards or the soft tapping of footsteps. Five minutes ago there had been screaming. Connor knocked again, heavy so that it shook the door and walls around it so it could be heard.

“Detroit Police, open up.”

Officer Miller shifted behind him. “I’m calling this in,” he said, reaching up for his walkie talkie. 

Connor tried for the doorknob.

**_[Stress Levels: ^40%]_ **

“It’s unlocked,” he said.

Miller started muttering fast details into walkie as Connor slowly pushed the door open. His hand reached for his gun at his belt. He didn’t pull it out yet, still searching for danger.

**_[Scanning. . .]_ **

**_[Alert! Detected Thirium 310]_ **

The blue spots highlighted themselves in his vision. Further into the apartment at the end of the hallway, spots on the carpet and smeared along the walls.

“There’s Thirium,” Connor said softly over his shoulder.

“There’s what?” Miller asked.

“Blue blood,” Connor said with a bit more urgency. As soon as the last word slipped past his lips he saw Miller’s eyes widen with alertness, his own hands pulling out his service weapon. Connor took the first step past the threshold.

They didn’t have to go far into the apartment. A few steps into the residence and in a room off the hallway Connor could see the pool of thirium even without his advanced scanning software. The next thing they saw as they moved further in was the pair of feet laying still next to the pool.

They cleared the apartment. The android was the only one in the residence. They called in the body and they taped off the area until backup arrived. Detectives, a coroner. Android murders were still common, even months after the revolution. Things were still considered unstable, but Connor hadn’t ever walked into a crime scene before.

As they waited, Connor knelt down next to the puddle. It was still fresh, none of the thirium had evaporated just yet. The android was murdered recently, likely moments after the call to police was made. Minutes before they arrived. A murderer could get far in that amount of time.

**_[Scanning Model Number. . .]_ **

**_[Warning! Proximity Alert]_ **

Connor quickly ducked his head. His body shifted away from the one that was leaning over him. He blinked up at Officer Miller in surprise.

“Whoa, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you,” Miller said quickly. He backed up. “Are you okay?”

**_[Stress Levels: ^44%]_ **

“I’m fine,” Connor said. Miller took a step back. Both of them looked back down at the victim. “I knew him.”

“You did?”

“Briefly,” Connor said, his voice coming out far too fast. “He was in the tower.”

There had been thousands of androids in Cyberlife tower. Detroit had filled with brand new deviants that had no experience, all freshly activated. The android’s serial number traced back to that group.

“Oh,” Officer Miller said.

Connor stood up. He took a step back, his investigative programs had already pieced together the crime scene. The blue blood had a trail, a pattern around the apartment. There were signs of an impact, a cause of death, signs of a scuffle, and a clear path if escape. Connor just had to pass along the information to the detective.

“It’s only been a couple months,” Connor mumbled.

Miller grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the body. Connor followed in step behind him. He didn’t pull away, but he felt tense. He wanted to shake the hand off of him. They reached the doorway of the apartment and stopped.

“You okay?” Miller asked.

“He’s not freaking out, is he?”

**_[Warning!]_ **

**_[Self-Repair: 72%]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^49%]_ **

“I am not freaking out, Detective Reed. I am having a slight emotional reaction. I believe it’s a part of being alive,” Connor kept his voice steady and firm. He didn’t want to appear afraid. He didn’t want Reed near him.

Reed grinned, his chin tilting up slightly as his eyes drifted over their shoulders down the hallway. Officer Chen and Officer Hillman came up the steps, following Reeds path towards them.

“You’re getting really comfortable pretending that, huh?” Reed said, raising an eyebrow.

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis. . .]_ **


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out long and it was fun to write

**_[Chance Of Further Violence: 63%]_ **

“I think that’s enough,” Miller said. His hand grabbed Connor’s shoulder quickly, pulling him back a step as Reed came closer.

The touch felt demanding. It felt urgent. Connor couldn’t resist against it as it moved him back into the apartment with the dead android just a few feet behind them.

**_[Stress Levels: ^53%]_ **

“Why don’t you focus on the crime scene? I’m sure that would be a better use of your time,” Officer Miller said. His voice remained steady and unwavering as he looked the Detective in the eyes.

Connor stood completely still, not daring to move an inch to even slip out of Miller’s hold. It made him nervous. Both Officer Miller and Detective Reed hovered around him, well within reach, and already held still by his partner’s strong hold on his shoulder. Connor wanted to slip out of grasp and back away. He would be forced back into the apartment with the dead androids. Connor knew what happened to him, the clues laid out in front of him. The dent in the skull plating, the thin thirium smudges that had begun to evaporate, the fingerprints on the open window.

“When did you become such an android lover, Miller? Remember that one PC200, it got too fucked up and the station was gonna scrap it? What happened to that thing again?” Reed said, his tone lifting as he spouted question after question.

Miller’s hand squeezed Connor’s shoulder tighter. His fingers dug in and held him in place. Connor felt like a fish, trapped in some swooping bird’s talons. The analytical software in Connor’s head began to scan possible implications of what those two humans talked about. There was a damaged police android and something happened to them.

“There was a human involved,” Connor said. He stepped back, pulling his shoulder out from under Miller’s hand. They were getting distracted, there was still a body. An android was dead. “There’s fingerprints on the window. The evaporating footprints can be scanned and show a clear escape out the window by a human.”

“And you’re certain a human broke the thing?” Reed asked.

**_[Stress Levels: ^56%]_ **

“Android’s don’t have fingerprints. I have already sent you the file matching the fingerprints, a young woman who lives not far from here. Perhaps you should-“ Connor’s voice died quickly as Reed took two steps forward toward him.

“Aren’t you being good. Doing what you were designed to, bet it’s easier for you. Go ahead and upload all the evidence at the station. I'll review it later,” Reed said. He shouldered past Connor and into the apartment. As he looked down at the pool of blue blood around the body.

Connor turned and followed after Reed.

**_[Stress Levels: ^58%]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Return To Station And Upload Memories Marked For Casefiles]_ **

“The killing blow was too the back of the head. The knocked over furniture indicates a struggle, while smeared thirium on table here and the particular angle in which the body lays suggests he had tripped and fell against the corner, severely damaging major biocomponents in his head,” Connor said. He stopped at the end of the hallway, looking at Reed standing over the body disturbed him.

“If I wanted a machine’s opinion then I asked. Unlike Anderson I don’t need a robot to do my job. I told you to just upload the files,” Reed said, annoyance clearly written on his face.

**_[Chance Of Further Violence: ^65%]_ **

Connor’s fingers twitched. He didn’t want to leave the crime scene. He felt a slight obligation to solve the crime, even if it was an accidental murder someone still fled the scene without calling the police. There were still signs of violence around the apartment. He was the only android police officer, he was the only one that would take the murder seriously.

He rotated his hand, rolling his wrist.

**_[Self-Repair: 72%]_ **

Connor couldn’t say a thing. He couldn’t seem to make another sound.

“Come on, Connor.” Officer Miller called out to him from the entrance of the apartment. 

The other officers were also still standing outside. They watched him curiously as he marched past them. He didn’t want to be in this building anymore. He felt trapped here. He couldn’t breathe.

“Hey!”

**_[Stress Levels: ^61%]_ **

He made it down the stairs, taking them quickly two at a time, and pushed out the door. The patrol car wasn’t parked far. Connor didn’t have to walk too far at all and he heard Officer Miller following behind him. He didn’t want to be grabbed again. Connor quickly pulled open the passenger side door and slipped into his seat.

A moment later, Miller got into the car as well. It was silent as the car spurted to life. Connor stared out the window. Miller was uneasy, it was obvious in the way he kept shifting in his seat, his grip constantly adjusting on the steering wheel. 

“So is he always such a dick to you?” Miller asked.

“I don’t believe Detective Reed is very fond of me?” Connor said.

It was a mild way of describing the hatred Connor felt directed towards him. He must have done something, perhaps as a machine, something that had slipped by his attention. Connor couldn’t imagine he would have to deal with the weight of Detective Reed’s hatred if he wasn’t somehow deserving of it.

“I wouldn’t pay him any mind, he's an ass to all the rookies. Thinks he’s initiating them or something ,” Miller said.

Connor nodded, letting the information settle in his mind and he glanced over to Miller, eyeing him cautiously.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Miller said softly.

Connor shook his head. “He wasn’t my friend. I don’t believe we’ve ever even spoken before.”

Miller didn’t say anything as they pulled out onto the street. He was waiting for Connor. For an explanation. For an excuse. What would a human say if someone they barely knew died? What was a human response?

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis. . .]_ **

**_[Chance Of Further Violence: 19%]_ **

Miller had never been angry with him before. Never been aggressive. He always treated Connor like a human.

“He didn’t get enough time. He never got shipped out of the tower. His first moments out of the tower were being awake and marching to freedom. He had only been activated for such a short time before that,” Connor said. He didn’t even need to do the math. “It had only been a few months. He would have been an infant if he was human. Now he’s dead.”

Miller’s eyes widened slightly, his jaw tightening. He rolled to a stop at a red light. The card around them followed the traffic laws, barely even moving over the speed limit. Everyone around them was aware of the police presence. It would be a long drive.

Connor knew he should speak more but he wasn’t sure what he should say. Several options provided themselves in front of his eyes, lingering on his HUD for him to ponder.

**_[Tell Miller About The Murder Scene]_ **

**_[Ask Miller About Death]_ **

**_[Tell Miller About Reed]_ **

**_[Say Nothing]_ **

“Can I ask you something?” Officer Miller said, pulling Connor from his thoughts. “So like the moment you’re activated is like your birth? When were you activated?”

“It would be an appropriate comparison,” Connor said with a nod. He was thankful that Miller picked a conversation topic. “Although androids are preset with certain behaviors mimicking a certain age range, we aren’t created with any experience with the world. Having a database of information about something and actually seeing and touching it are two entirely different things. I can tell you everything there is to know about pit bulls but I’ve never actually met one.”

“What? Are you serious?” Miller said quickly.

“Yes. And to answer your other question, my first memory and primary activation occurred on August 13th, 2038. The time was 8:37am, it was in one of the design rooms in the tower. There were no windows. They asked me to perform simple tasks and I did them. It was just a rudimentary test of my AI’s software.They would decide if I had minor bugs or if they should start the software from scratch.” Connor was rambling. He should stop. He saw the clear signs of discomfort etched in Officer Miller’s every gesture. His body language analyzers were the most advanced ever designed.

**_[Stress Levels: ^64%]_ **

He shut his mouth and clenched his teeth. He willed his mouth to stop moving. There was something different, something that felt like it was twisting deep in Connor’s stomach. He had never felt it before, at least not when he was talking to  _ Chris. _

“August 13th?” Officer Miller asked, his eyes glancing sideways at Connor. The android had to look away quickly back out the window. “So you’re like two days younger than my son. Connor, you’re a baby!”

Miller laughed. His hand slapped the steering wheel, knocking against his horn. Connor flinched as it honked.

**_[Stress Levels: ^66%]_ **

“Shit, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just so weird that you’re the same age as my kid and he’s still a baby, you know.” Miller was grinning. He was happy.

“You don’t think it’s strange?

“It’s kinda strange but everything the past few months have been kinda strange,” Miller said, shrugging his shoulders. “But you being the same age as my son should be rather normal, I didn’t expect you to be too old so I’m not surprised.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It wasn’t the first body Connor had seen. Android’s don’t dream, but sometimes Connor catches himself replaying the memories while in stasis. He would wake up with a start, the phantom sensation if the gun in his hand, firing his way off of the ship and again, killing the guards when he infiltrated the towers. He didn’t think about it for too long.

Still, Connor wasn’t a strange to dead bodies even after he deviated. He shouldn’t feel so put off by it. He shouldn’t feel like he needed to do more. He wasn’t the detective. He wasn’t supposed to solve murders.

**_[Direct Order: Return To Station And Upload Memories Marked For Casefiles]_ **

**_[Status: Incomplete]_ **

It was towards the end of their shift. Connor had put it off for too long. He hadn’t had a direct order so prominently displayed on his HUD since he deviated. Not since his one goal had blinded him. It reminded him of being a machine, but he could choose not to do it. He could leave early with Hank, the man wouldn’t want to finish his own paperwork anyway. If it wasn’t for how important his analysis of the crime scene was for the case, he might have done it just out of spite.

Reed hadn’t even spoken to him since he had returned to the station. He hadn’t reissued his demand. He hadn’t even looked over to Connor’s desk. It was as if Connor was entirely forgotten. The idea excited him.

He waited until the final fifteen minutes before he needed to clock out. Everyone was busy and focused on everything else they needed to do before they got to walk out. The shift change was always busy. No one would notice him slipping away from his desk.

The archive doors were heavy and clicked shut behind him as he stepped through, the sound if it echoed in the hallway. The loud murmur of the precinct was muffled behind them. It was a peaceful quiet. He felt alone. There was only one other door in the hallway and it opened to the stairs that lead down to the evidence room.

He had his own keycard now. It didn’t need to be an ordeal to get down there. He needed to use the computer terminal to upload the selected files to the evidence folder for Reed’s case. He didn’t need Hank’s keycard or a distraction and Connor still felt like he was sneaking around.

**_[Stress Levels: ^42%]_ **

He didn’t want to be seen.

The lock clicked as his keycard passed over it. He pushed the door open and took the first step down.

The archive doors down the hall were pulled open. Connor grimaced, his expression pinching and his eyes squeezing shut. He had been seen. He felt like a fool for being ashamed. He was submitting evidence to an open investigation, it didn’t mean he was following an order. It didn’t mean anything.

He heard footsteps coming quickly down the hall. Perhaps someone had forgotten to submit something until the last minute, or someone had a breakthrough and needed to review evidence. Connor walked slowly down the next few steps and kept his eyes in front of him. He wished to appear as if nothing was wrong. He was overreacting after all, he was just submitting evidence.

**_[Warning! Proximity Alert]_ **

Connor felt the hands against his back, his body quickly moved to twist around and grab the wrists but the sudden shove forward and his shift in balance sent him stumbling downward. The world spun before his eyes. There was nothing to grab onto. His vision was overwhelmed by the sudden surge of warnings and damage alerts, all red and demanding and refusing to go away.

**_[Warning! Damage Detected!]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^69%]_ **

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis. . .]_ **

It took him a moment to realize he had stopped tumbling. The concrete floor was cold and stable, he laid flat against it. One by one he reviewed the damage reports crowding his HUD. He categorized the damage, listing each broken piece until he wasn’t as overwhelmed and could focus on the floor in front of him.

Not only had his arm been rebroken but it had practically snapped in half. It had dented inwards and pressed against the delicate structure of his wrist joint. It would need more than a slow self-repair. He would need it worked on. There was an error in electrical feedback in his chest, some of the plating dented but luckily there appeared to be no damage to his thirium pump.

**_[Stress Levels: ^71%]_ **

There was a crack on his head. The hard corners of the steps dented and cracked the curved plating of his skull. He saw the thirium growing in drips around his head as he tried to push himself up. He tried to find an area of his body that wouldn’t flare up with damage alerts if he leaned too heavily on it. Connor just had to find a way up, he had to push himself to his feet.

“You know, I thought you would be more sturdy than what you are,” The voice called out, echoing down the stairs as he skipped down them two at a time.

Reed was grinning when he finally made it down to the basement level. He looked down at the small puddle of thirium, fascinated in it as Connor smeared it around, trying to find a place to put his most uninjured hand to push himself up. Reed stepped forward.

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 67%]_ **

“Look at you, the most advanced prototype and yet you still took a tumble down the stairs. Clumsy thing. Maybe that's what the android from today did, tripped and cracked his head open.” Reed said, his hands reached out.

“Don’t!” Connor said quickly. His body jerked away, the warnings flashed in his eyes as he tried to crawl away. His arm wouldn’t support his weight, he slipped in the thirium. Reed’s hand grabbed his upper arm, gripping tight. Connor practically hissed. “Don’t touch me!”

**_[Stress Levels: ^83%]_ **

**_[Warning!]_ **

**_[Activating Self-Defense Protocol…]_ **

Reed tugged Connor’s arm, dragging him to his feet. Connor followed the momentum, pushing up on his feet as soon as he found purchase. He planted his hands against Reed’s chest and shoved with as much force as he could manage. Reed stumbled back. His hands yanked and then let go and Connor had to struggle to keep his balance as a new wave of damage alerts blinded him. He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes, his feet scurrying backwards and away from Reed. The man was already moving to stand again, blocking the stairs.

“You’re fucking dead, you know that!” Reed said. His expression twisted and his nose wrinkled as he looked at Connor, rage burning in his eyes.

“You pushed me down the stairs. You attacked me,” Connor said quickly. He was leaving a trail of drips along the ground. Everyone would know. He couldn’t hide this.

“Really? Because all the cameras saw was me finding you down here and trying to help you up. Then you attacked me,” Reed held his arms out, the darkness around his eyes almost seemed to cast a shadow over his whole expression.

**_[Stress Levels: ^85%]_ **

**_[Severe Damage Detected!]_ **

**_[Report To Cyberlife For Discharge]_ **

At this point it would be more cost effective to simply upload his memory into a new Connor. 

Reed was right. Connor just needed to pull up the security camera layout to know there wasn't one in the hallway or stairwell but there was a camera in the downstairs evidence room. It saw exactly what Reed said it saw.

“But you pushed me,” Connor said.

Reed shrugged. “No, I didn’t. And unless you have proof then I don't believe all of my colleagues who I’ve known for years would think I’m the kinda guy to do that. Do you really want to find out what all of them think of you?”

He smiled again. Reed seemed so thrilled with himself, had found some victory in outsmarting a machine. Connor didn’t see any sense of competition in this. He didn’t want to prove himself. He wanted to be left alone.

“Now why don’t you keep your mouth shut at the crime scenes and let me do my job. I just want you to upload your scannings like a good little computer and let the detectives do work. Then you can work on not being so clumsy,” Reed said.

Connor shook his head. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t the truth about what had happened. His body tensed as anger welled in his stomach. He could tell Hank, or Miller, or Fowler. He could call Josh or Simon or Markus. He needed to tell someone the truth and they would believe him.

“You can’t do this to me. Legally, I’m a-“

“ _ Legally?!  _ You think anyone gives a shit about what you are? You know when we had a broken android that was worthless we would take it to the gun range for target practice. Your friend Chris got a PC200 in the chest on its heart thing,” Reed said. He lifted his hand up to press against the spot a thirium pump would be. “Anderson always got the head. Blue blood would splatter everywhere.”

**_[Stress Levels: ^90%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Stress Levels Critical]_ **

“Please leave me alone,” Connor said flatly.

Reed nodded. “Okay. I will. I can make it so much easier just be a good little android from now on. No more back talking and stay out of my way,” Reed took several loong steps closer, his hands up in a fake soothing display. The camera saw a friend approaching gently.

Connor nodded. “Okay.”

Reed’s eyes lit up, his smile softening. “Yeah? Good. Now let’s go upstairs and you can tell everyone about how you tripped and fell down the stairs.” He said with a firm tone. Connor wasn’t welcome to argue. He was supposed to agree.

**_[Warning!: Thirium Loss Detected]_ **

**_[Thirium Levels: v6%]_ **

“Yes,” Connor whispered, nodding his head. He needed to get out of here. “I fell down the stairs.”

“It was an accident,” Reed said. His hand curled around Connor’s upper arm again, pulling him close. 

**_[Stress Levels: ^92%]_ **

“Please let me go,” Connor said.

“No I gotta help you upstairs. Now shut up, you don’t want to take another tumble do you?” Reed said.

Connor didn’t say anything else. He didn’t want to give Reed a reason to hurt him again. He let the man lead him to the stairs and started pushing him up them. His feet really could stumble. It was so hard to focus past the damage and the danger of it all.

He focused on his feet, keeping them as stable as he could on every single step. He didn’t want his balance to sway even slightly. One of his hands wouldn’t move the way he wanted it to, the fingers spasming and twitching. The arm was too damaged to be of use. He held into Reed’s sleeve as hard as he could with his other hand, not caring about the smeared thirium or creasing wrinkles. He only wanted to get upstairs safely.

Reed pushed through the door first and then pulled Connor in after him. He felt a rush of relief as his feet stumbled on solid ground. He wasn’t going to fall again. He was going to be okay, he just needed to get to Hank. Reed tugged on his arm, pulling him back as Connor tried to rush towards the door at the end of the hall. They were already running behind, the shift would have already started to let out. Hank would wait for him, surely. Hank wouldn’t leave without him.

“Remember,” Reed said softly, face inches from Connor’s after pulling him close, “Do as I say and you’ll be just fine.”

Connor nodded. Reed let him go. His hands dropped to his sides and Connor was able to slip away. He walked slowly at first, in case Reed changed his mind and rushed towards him.

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis. . .]_ **

He started running. Connor couldn’t stop once he started. He nearly slammed into the doors once he reached them and struggled against the handle. He didn’t like knowing that Reed was close behind him. 

As soon as he was through the door his eyes sought out Hank. The man was still at his desk, leaned far back in his chair with his feet thrown up on top of his desk. He looked so calm until his eyes drifted up and saw Connor.

Hank jumped to his feet. The man was already circling around his desk. Connor must be a sight, the thirium dripping from his head, smeared on his face, neck, and clothes. He probably looked awful, who knows what Hank must have thought.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Officer Miller said, intercepting him on his way to Hank. His hands gripped Connor’s arms and stopped him in his path. “What happened to you?”

Connor was surprised to see him. He had been so focused on Hank. He still needed to get to Hank. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Reed lingering not far behind him.

“I fell down the stairs. I need to be repaired. Reed helped me back up.” Connor said.

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 53%]_ **

“You did what?” Hank said loudly, practically plucking him from Millers arms.

“I was going downstairs to the evidence room to upload some of the information I had analyzed. I must have tripped. Reed found me a moment later,” Connor whispered. He tried to keep his voice steady. He didn’t want to get caught in a lie. He didn't want to make everyone angry.

Reed could be lying about Miller. His new partner had been nothing but kind to him. Hank, however, still had the anti-androids bumper stickers around his desk and no one had bothered to ask him to remove them. No one cared. Maybe Reed was right about everything.

He remembered a gun pointed to his head.

“You tripped? And then Reed helped you up?” Officer Miller said. He wrinkled his nose, eyebrows furrowed.

“I wanted to make sure the evidence got turned in and I found him bleeding all over place. We need someone to go clean that up,” Reed said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder to gesture to the evidence room.

“I need to be repaired. My stress levels are critically high.” Connor tried to remain calm. Humans weren't well trained in android first aid. They wouldn’t be able to stop the thirium loss. They didn’t even have a significant supply of thirium on hand. Connor had to remain calm to control the situation.

“Do we need to take you to a Cyberlife store? They do repairs?” Hank asked quickly. He had a hard grip on Connor’s arm, already dragging him to the door.

“No, no! Not there,” Connor said quickly. Hank held too tightly to slip out of. Connor couldn’t stop himself from trying to struggle. He couldn’t restrain himself. He was supposed to be calm.

“Okay! Then where the fuck do I take you?” Hank said. His grip tightened. Connor couldn’t find any words at all. “Jericho?! Should I take you to New Jericho?”

Connor nodded. He stopped struggling as he was dragged from the station and towards Hank’s car.

**_[Stress Levels: ^94%]_ **

“I fell down the stairs,” Connor said again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments


	5. Chapter 5

Connor watched curiously as Hank marched angrily out of the repair room. He wasn’t entirely sure what Simon had said to make him leave in such a rush, slamming the door shut behind him. He tensed and shifted slightly in his seat but was unable to move much. His arm had been powered off and strapped down to the workbench for the repairs. All of the critical damage was tended to as soon as Connor arrived in New Jericho and all that was left was countless hours of minor repairs. They were currently working on his arm.

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis. . .]_ **

It had nearly broken in half, the fall had cracked and snapped the already damaged and weakened plastimetal. There was no hiding the injury, it was beyond his self-repair’s capability. Connor had to sit here and suffer through the technicians digging around inside of him, putting everything back where it belonged. He had so many new pieces. All small things, but Connor felt uneasy with so much of himself being replaced.

He had been in repairs for hours. As soon as they had arrived Connor was taken to a repair room and the most critical damage had priority. They had to pinch his main thirium lines to prevent damage as he slowly but steadily bled out from his injuries. They needed to stop the leaks first. 

Once that was complete they needed to lower his stress levels. They were critical, high into the nineties and he couldn’t bring them down himself, and he didn’t want to self-destruct. It turned out, the fastest way to do that is to temporarily turn off the programs responsible for scanning stressors. It stopped him from processing stress, almost as if he couldn’t feel a thing at all. It was far too reminiscent of being a machine. It was as if all of his emotions were behind a glass wall and completely out of reach.

After that they continued with the more basic repairs. Everything non-critical. He felt almost nothing as Hank disappeared behind the door. He must have been asked to leave though in reality he was lucky to be allowed in New Jericho to begin with.

**_[Error: Stress Levels Unavailable]_ **

**_[Warning! Proximity Alert]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics. . .]_ **

Connor’s eyes darted up to Simon when the other android dragged a chair over to the workstation. He sat about three feet away which still felt too close. Connor wouldn’t be able to move away even if he wanted to, his arm was turned off and isolated from his programs for the repairs. He had to wait for the repairs to finish, until then he had to sit still as the technician finished. His eyes dropped back down to his arm, curiously watching the last of the repairs.

**_[Repaired Damage: Right Temporal Plates Replaced, Internal Cooling System Repaired, Facial Plates RT112 - RJ326 Repaired, Additional Minor Repairs.]_ **

**_[Damage Detected: Left Forearm]_ **

“Hello, Connor. You’re almost done with repairs, but I wanted to ask you a few questions about your injuries,” Simon said.

His tone was soft. Each word was spoken clearly and softly, drifting over the space between them. Simon had never used that tone with him. Connor had always been spoken to in short, rushed sentences. Androids that had the misfortune of needing to speak to Connor had always tried to be over with it as soon as possible. No one ever took their time and spoke to him slowly. Normally his stress would be affected. It wasn’t their fault they were afraid. Far too many androids were alive back when he was a machine. When he had hunted deviants through the streets of Detroit and led the humans to massacre dozens of them in the freighter. And even the thousands of androids Connor had marched out of the tower had quickly learned what he was and from the mouths of people who had desperately struggled to survive what he had done.

Simon’s lips pulled back into a gentle smile. Connor had to look away from him and instead pinned his gaze onto the open plating of his arm. The technician, a MC500, didn’t look up from their work. Connor could see the broken structures inside, carefully being reformed and the cracks sealed together. It wouldn’t be considered an actual replacement, he wasn’t technically losing any part of himself, but he still watched the tray off to the side slowly fill with each torn wire, shattered screw, shards of plating too jagged and damaged to be worth keeping. All replaced.

“Connor, how did you get hurt today?” Simon asked.

“I fell down the stairs,” Connor said.

“Okay. Was anyone with you when you fell down the stairs?” Simon asked.

“No.”

The MC500 looked up from their work, looking over to Simon for a few seconds before glancing at Connor. They seemed displeased, slight wrinkles on their nose and forehead as their expression pinched. Connor wished he could pull his arm away. He was ready to go home. He didn’t want to be in New Jericho for longer than necessary. He didn’t want the androids to know he was here, damaged, and in the infirmary. He didn’t want them to be afraid.

“I was found moments after I fell by a fellow officer who helped me upstairs,” Connor said. It was technically the truth. One version of it, the easier one.

“May we interface? I would appreciate it if you shared your memories with me of your time working at the station, with your coworkers, and particularly I would like to see the fall,” Simon said.

**_[Error: Stress Levels Unavailable]_ **

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

“I have already submitted my report. There has been no change in android police relations and I haven’t had the chance to analyze police efforts in solving android murders. I have no new information I can give you,” Connor said. He pulled his free hand closer to himself, letting it rest on top of his thigh. Simon’s hands rested in his own lap. Neither of them reached for the other.

“This isn’t regarding any of your duties to New Jericho,” Simon said.

“Anything that involves an open investigation is confidential,” Connor said. 

“I’m not asking to see anything confidential. I just want to have a look if you're willing to share it with me,” Simon said.

**_[Error: Unable To Determine Chance of Violence]_ **

**_[Error: Stress Levels Unavailable]_ **

**_[Running Preconstruction Software: Investigate “Possible Outcomes”]_ **

Connor frowned. He wasn’t entirely sure what information Simon wanted and what he needed it for. Connor knew what would happen if New Jericho discovered the truth behind his injuries. Despite their discomfort towards him, perhaps even a mild bit of dislike, they wouldn’t allow him to stay in his position at the police department. He would have to live like he had before, in boring isolation with no work to occupy his time and no value for New Jericho to ever be called upon. For months no one from Jericho had bothered to check in on him, after he had left after the revolution to meet with Hank he had become nothing to them. He watched on the news when Markus and the others met with the President and held political meetings with congress. They forged a path. At that time Connor had nothing except to attempt to keep Hank’s life in order. He cleaned. He took care of Sumo. He helped Hank with his budget and ignored the distaste in other android’s eyes whenever they saw him out of the house. He couldn’t lose his position at the DPD. He could handle some bullying.

“I would rather not interface about work, I am exposed to a lot of confidential and sensitive information,” Connor said calmly, giving a slight shake to the head. He saw Simon’s fingers twitch, tapping lightly against his leg.

“What about your home life. If you feel comfortable, maybe you could tell me about the human you live with,” Simon said.

Connor tilted his head to the side. He turned his attention back to the open plating of his left arm, the exposed damage within. It would take a while for the repairs to be finished and it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to just leave. He wouldn’t be able to fulfill his duties to the police if he didn’t complete his repairs. He didn’t want his mental health to be questioned among android’s questioning why he refused medical care.

“Why are you suddenly so interested?” Connor asked.

“Connor you will have to forgive us for overstepping, but there are a few things about this situation that has us concerned,” Simon said. 

The MC500 would not look back up from their work. They dug around inside of Connor’s arm, dropping damaged bits into their tray, and hid their gaze away. Their body was hunched over his arm as if focused on only the repairs.

**_[Define: ‘Concerned’]_ **

**_[Adjective]_ **

**_[Definition: ‘Worried, troubled, or anxious’]_ **

Connor blinked.

“Why would you be worried about me?”

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I don’t believe you fell down the stairs on accident. It's just not a logical explanation. You're an advanced prototype for a police android. Given, as a deviant there is a larger chance for error, but you’re still fine tuned for pursuit, detainment, and the high physical demands of police work. You accidentally falling down the stairs isn’t very likely,” Simon said calmly. He kept his features flat and relaxed. He was almost unrecognizable as a leader compared to any other PL600.

“You think I’m lying?” Connor asked.

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Error: Unable To Determine Chance of Violence]_ **

“Not without good reason. I’m just curious as to why you’re lying,” Simon said. He shifted in his seat and leaned closer. His hands stayed flat on his lap. “I just want to make sure you’re not being influenced by the humans, that you’re not being intimidated to lie to me.”

Connor looked down at his free hand. It had only minor damages, so minor it wouldn’t be fixed by the technician here, instead it would be left for his self-repair. There were minor cracks deemed too minor to need manual repair. It was uncomfortable, but Connor could still wiggle his fingers.

“I don’t know you, Simon. I don’t want anyone inside my head,” Connor said. The thought would have caused his stress to elevate had his sensors been activated. He understood that what he was experiencing was uncomfortable, he just didn’t feel it in a way that strained his systems or risked self-destruction.

“I’m not trying to get inside your head. We won’t interface if you don’t want to, that’s your right, but if someone is hurting you then we can’t help you if you don’t tell us,” Simon said.

The choice for Connor was clear. He felt fine, the repairs were almost done, and soon he could go home. Soon he would be able to go into stasis and spend the rest of the day. Having his Stress sensor deactivated wasn't enough, he would rather just not feel anything for a while. His processors didn’t sense his stress but they still sensed his discomfort. He did not want to go back to being useless. He didn’t want to lose his job.

Reed would still get to be a detective. Fowler wouldn’t fire him for damaging a machine. Connor’s fingers twitched in excess energy, his quarter felt heavy in his pocket. The spot on his wrist felt like it was burning. Fowler didn’t give Detective Reed any consequences when the cigarette had been jabbed into his wrist. Cyberlife had charged him for damages and now there wasn’t even a Cyberlife. Reed’s words kept echoing in his mind. About busted androids and target practice. When he had first met Hank just a few months ago he would have believed it instantly and at the time he wouldn’t even have cared. 

The thought was striking.

There wasn’t really a doubt that Detective Reed had been honest. Hank himself had made violent comments about androids. The stickers were still by his desk.

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Error: Unable To Determine Chance of Violence]_ **

**_[Error: Stress Levels Unavailable]_ **

**_[Running Preconstruction Software: Investigate “Possible Outcomes”]_ **

“It's just,” Connor’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. His mouth felt dry, though it wasn’t supposed to be a condition androids could experience. “I didn’t want anyone to know. Deviancy has been harder than I had originally believed. I didn’t expect to get clumsy. As a prototype, quite a bit of my software wasn’t completely polished for mass production. My coordination has been affected. I fell down the stairs.”

He couldn’t lose his job. They would still need androids represented in the Detroit Police. They would find others in New Jericho, but then they would take Connor’s place. They wouldn’t be able to handle it like he could. Why should they have to suffer through Reed’s hatred of him?

Simon sighed. “Connor,you need to understand that you interact with the humans on a day to day in a way that most other androids don’t.”

”Isn’t it better that way?”

”Connor, what about the burn on your wrist? You can’t insist that the humans are welcoming.”

**_[Error: Stress Levels Unavailable]_ **

He couldn’t lie about it. To any android it was undeniably a cigarette burn.

“That happened before. It’s not important anymore.”

“Just because you were considered a machine doesn’t mean it’s not important. Who did it? Is it someone you still see every day?” Simon asked. The calm was slowly slipping from his face and replaced with frustration.

“It was no one,” Connor said.

“No one?” Simon raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, no one.

“There’s too many red flags, we’re going to have-“

“No!”

Connor’s free hand was curled into a tight fist. He didn’t want to appear panicked. He wasn’t afraid. He was tired, his shoulders dragging down to the ground as if overwhelmed by gravity.

**_[Error: Stress Levels Unavailable]_ **

“It was just some drunk at a bar. It was before, there was a sign prohibiting androids, and I was waiting outside. It was just a drunk,” Connor said slowly. He tried to sound confident. It wasn’t a lie, it was almost entirely the truth.

Simon’s nose wrinkled and his shoulders dropped as he nodded. His attention shifted to the side and Connor glanced over to the MC500, the two were sharing a look Connor didn’t quite understand. It was about him, of course, but the deeper meaning behind it was lost to him.

“Honestly, Simon. I’m an advanced police grade prototype. I was trained for combat situations. If anything illegal happens, such as assault, I’m programmed to report it immediately. Trust me when I tell you that no one has hurt me,” Connor said. It felt so effortless. His LED stayed steady at a calm blue. He felt numb to lying

**_[Error: Stress Levels Unavailable]_ **

“Is it finished?” Connor asked quickly. “I want to go home now.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It took several more hours until the last of the major repairs were finished, each damaged piece had to be fixed or replaced. Every crack was sealed and each dent reshaped. He was given a clean bill of health but Simon said he wanted him back in a week to check the integrity of the repairs and how it held up to strain.

Connor’s stress sensors were turned back on and were surprisingly elevated. Hovering high in the sixties and Connor assumed the system just needed to recalibrate. The high stress put a strain on his already disrupted systems still recouping from the damage. He foundation himself fidgeting with his hands, rolling his quarter around his fingers until they got home.

“You need a bath,” Hank said as soon as they stepped through the threshold.

**_[Stress Levels: 67%]_ **

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis. . .]_ **

**_[Chance Of Further Violence: 46%]_ **

“A bath?” Connor asked.

Sumo had wandered in from the kitchen to greet them. Hank patted his head as he walked by on his way to the bathroom. Connor was drawn to him. His hands reached out with twitching fingers, eager to feel Sumo’s soft fur. He dropped to his knees, arms stretched out, and the large dog immediately accepted the invitation and moved into Connor’s space. It was warm, Connor was able to tuck his face into Sumo’s neck and hide in his thick fur. It was like a jungle of overgrown weeds and Connor didn't feel like finding his way out.

“Hey, I mean it. You’re still covered in blood. Now Sumo needs a bath too, damnit,” Hank grumbled. He sounded tired.

Sumo let out a soft _‘boof’_ when Hank mentioned a bath. He stood up and pulled out of Connor’s arms to make a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

“All of the thirium has evaporated, you can only see the stains that had set into the fabric,” Connor said as he looked down at himself.

“Yeah, the clothes can get thrown away and I don’t give a shit if it’s evaporated. It was still your blood and you were still covered in it. Bath,” Hank said firmly.

It wasn't an argument worthy of having. Connor would like hot water and fifteen minutes alone. Privacy seemed absolute when he was in the shower. He was blocked by the curtain from view, in the bathroom behind a locked, closed door. The water muffled every sound made. He wanted to hide from the view of the whole world for a little while.

“A shower is the most efficient way to get clean and wash away filth,” Connor said.

**_[Stress Levels: ^69%]_ **

“I hate how they made you such a know-it-all,” Hank said as he rolled his eyes.

“I had to be, otherwise you would have me soak in dirty water in an effort to get clean,” Connor said.

“Whatever, just go clean up and get comfortable. Already got pajamas laid out for you,” Hank said and he gestured behind him towards the bathroom.

“I can pick out my own clothes. The repairs were more than sufficient for me to be fully independent,” Connor said.

“Whatever. You don’t know how to actually get comfortable the right way. Just go.”

Connor stayed put for a few seconds as Hank moved down the hall to his room. It would likely be an early night. Connor was ready to sink into the worn indents in the cushions and go into stasis. He was ready to not have to think. Even when they had turned off his stress sensors it wasn't enough. He was ready to feel nothing.

**_[Stress Levels: ^71%]_ **

He slipped into the bathroom and turned the lock once it clicked shut. He turned the doorknob and pulled light to make sure it was secured. The pajamas that were left sitting on the edge of the sink were out of season, they were made of thick, plush fabric and covered in cartoon reindeer and snowflakes. It was February.

Connor enjoyed hot showers. Androids could tolerate higher temperature extremes than humans and that fact had made it a house rule that Connor was to never shower _before_ Hank. There was never any hot water left after him. Today must have been bad if he had insisted Connor get cleaned up first. He turned the hot water all the way on while barely turning the cold at all.

The clothes were salvageable despite Hank’s insistence that Connor throw them out. Thirium wasn’t difficult to clean as long as there was a decent stain remover applied. Hank had purchased some last month after spilling nacho cheese on one of his favorite shirts. He wouldn’t mind Connor using it.

Steam had begun to roll out from behind the shower curtain. Connor’s clothes were left laying haphazardly in a pile on the floor. Right before he stepped into the shower he glanced back at the door, double checking it one last time.

**_[Stress Levels: ^74%]_ **

It was fine. He stepped into the water without a second thought. His sensors lit up as dozens of burning hot water droplets fell against his skin. It was comfortable. Connor’s eyes fell closed and his head fell forwards into the water. It flowed over his head and dripped down his face. It was almost like drowning. 

**_[Warning!: Water Detected]_ **

**_[Warning!: Cooling Systems Stalling]_ **

**_[Risk of Overheating: ^13%]_ **

Connor’s simulated breathing stopped automatically, his fans closed and any openings were sealed shut. His body reacted without him even having to think about it and worked to seal his vulnerable inner circuitry to protect it from water. He kept his head under the spray until the water seemed to plug up his ears.

He didn’t need to breathe right away. The act of breathing flowed clean air through his body, an extra element to his advanced cooling systems. It was uncomfortable to have his breathing off. The steaming hot water rained heavily down on his head, running through his hair and into his eyes. He could only go for several minutes before having to pull away because of the hot water and diminished cooling system. The water flow shifted as he moved slightly and turned to get his head out of the water. He was able to breathe, but a lot of it was diminished to reduce the risk of water getting inside.

He ran his hands up and down his arms. His fingers prodded at his skin. There had been a series of minor injuries and dents up along his arms that most were effortlessly hidden under his skin. However, the skin program became unstable on his arm. It had difficulty healing over the crack from when he fell in the breakroom, but the most recent injury had damaged the skin even further. He could see the white of the plating, smooth and flawless and brand new. The skin glitched and fluttered under the shower spray. Connor’s hands rubbed the area quickly, trying to spread the skin to reconnect. 

When he opened his eyes again he saw quite a bit of blue swirling around the drain. It should have all been evaporated by now, not washing away down the drain. There was always residue when thirium evaporated, though it was usually very faint. Practically transparent so it couldn’t be the blue running down the drain. Could it have stained his skin and was finally washing away? 

**_[Stress Levels: ^76%]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics…]_ **

Connor stepped back and looked down at himself. It was easy to spot the damage, the burst of bright blue that ran down his arm. He quickly pulled his arm to his chest, cradling it close so he could get a better look. The skin around the damage and scars had been scratched raw and bleeding. The damage registered as minor and superficial, his self-healing was already sealing the cuts to stop the bleeding. Connor had dragged his nails along his arm. He had gotten too violent in his attempt to rub the skin together. He had only aggravated the issue. The skin felt raw and burned.

**_[Warning!: Arm Malfunction]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics…]_ **

**_[Error: No Issues Found]_ **

He ran his arm under the water, washing away the fresh thirium. Once it was clean he could see the damage. It was nothing, shallow cuts in the skin program that was already stitching together. Something was wrong with it, with him. The skin pulled back so he could get a clearer view of the issues. His nails had left tiny knicks in the brand new plating of his arm.

Connor stepped out of the shower. He shoved the shower curtain aside and moved towards the mirror. It was fogged up and clouded, water droplets dripping down as Connor rubbed at it with his hand and then leaned forward to examine himself. Had he damaged himself anywhere else? It was possible that the repaired or replacement pieces had become faulty. They could have misplaced them, they could have been incompatible, or they could even have been sabotaged.

**_[Stress Levels: ^78%]_ **

Seeing himself without his skin was startling. Connor found himself unable to move as he looked at the patchwork of sealed, replaced, and reshaped plates. It wasn't noticeable, the shade of white was slightly off but to Connor the difference seemed blatantly obvious. It was off putting, seeing his body like this. It didn’t feel like himself.

**_[Warning!: Proximity Alert]_ **

Connor’s eyes darted quickly to the door when he heard the heavy and unsteady footsteps thumping down the hallway. Connor moved silently across the bathroom, his feet barely patting against the tiles, and grabbed the doorknob. He held it tight, the metal creaking under his fingers as he held the doorknob completely still.

The footsteps walked on by. They moved past the bathroom and towards the kitchen. Connor didn’t even have to strain to hear the fridge.

It was just Hank.

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis...]_ **

**_[Chance Of Further Violence: 43%]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^80%]_ **

Connor backed up from the door. His red LED lit up the room and reflected back at from against the walls and the mirror. Steam still poured in from behind the shower curtain. He wanted to hide back under the hot water. It was safe in here, the door was locked. He remembered locking the door and yet his eyes lingered on the doorknob to double check. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments

Officer Miller was fascinated with the repairs. They cruised around town and every few minutes Connor caught Miller staring at him. It must have been startling. Yesterday Connor was covered in thirium, half his body bent, cracked, and broken. Today he was as good as new. It must look like he had been replaced. He reached up and pressed his hand against his head. Enough applied pressure will alert him of any compromised areas that could potentially cause damage if he were to press harder. He knew exactly what pieces of him had been replaced and which had been patched and repaired.

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 32%]_ **

His LED flickered to yellow as his stress processed the rising threat. Miller had never harmed him, he reminded himself. Officer Miller had been nothing but kind. They were friends.

**_[“Your friend Chris got a PC200 in the chest”]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^37%]_ **

That was before everything. Before they were alive, before they were thought of as people, before anyone even thought of them as anything other than a machine. It would be unthinkable to prosecute every instance of android abuse, harassment, and murder when it was the equivalent to them as smashing your own television. Not a single member of congress would vote on that bill and the president would never sign it.

In the most basic legal definition in the new legislation, that PC200 wasn’t a person. The law was very specific. Android personhood went into effect immediately after President Warren’s press conference. Any crimes committed against androids before that moment will not be considered crimes against a person. It would be senseless to hold a grudge against his partner over something that would never be settled.

**_[Stress Levels: ^40%]_ **

“Shit, I’m sorry for staring. I just can’t believe they got you fixed up so fast. Does it hurt or anything?” Officer Miller spoke quickly, his body leaning slightly towards him.

“Androids don’t feel pain,” Connor said. He let his hand fall from where he had been holding his head. Pressing. “At most it was uncomfortable.”

“Huh,” Miller said. The sound was more of a sigh than a vocalized word.

Connor readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. It was another slow night. A few traffic stops, very few arrests, and a lot of quiet time between the two of them. Miller was back to staring. His eyes were burning into the side of Connor’s head. Miller was likely waiting for Connor to share the level of stress and physical trauma his processors were coping with. He wanted to know if Connor felt anything at all. Machines didn’t feel anything, but if someone was alive then they would have felt strongly about the situation they might not have come to work the next day. They might have stayed home and taken some sick time. Connor was repaired. There was no point in being upset by it.

Miller kept staring.

“I’m fine,” Connor said.

“Well, I’m glad. Gotta admit you scared the shit out of me. I thought you were dying when you walked out covered in all that blue blood. I’m really sorry for being weird, but I’m really happy you're okay,” Officer Miller said quickly. He smiled wide and he reached out across the car to grab Connor’s shoulder.

**_[Warning!: Proximity Alert]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^42%]_ **

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

Connor jerked away, his shoulder slipping out from under Officer Miller’s touch. His hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel and he heard the plastic creaking under the strain as he resisted the urge to start twisting it apart. The light turned red and the car rolled to a slow stop. The light lingered, reflecting on the windshield against them. He still felt the heavy weight of Miller’s eyes on him.

“I’m sorry.”

Connor quickly shook his head. “No, no. I don’t know why I’m reacting like this,” he said.

“No, I shouldn’t have touched you,” Miller said.

Connor didn’t want Officer Miller to touch him.

The light turned green and Connor pressed on the gas. He desperately wished for the moment to be left behind as they drove away. It wasn’t. It was trapped in the car with them.

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 35%]_ **

“I wanted to talk to you about yesterday,” Officer Miller said. He put his hands on his lap, laid flat against his thighs, where Connor could constantly keep track of them.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Reed said a lot of shit at the crime scene yesterday.”

“I know. We shouldn’t talk about it,” Connor said quickly.

“We have to at some point. I can’t imagine what you think of me.”

“I don’t even know what I think.”

Another red light. Connor saw the yellow light if his LED flickering in the windshield as he stared up at the stoplight and waited for it to change.

“Well, I’m not gonna lie if you ever want to talk about it. When you’re ready. And just so you know what I think, Makus saved my life that night. And you’re a good guy and you deserve some peace of mind and know I actually do want to be your friend,” Miller said. The words tumbled out fast. He looked eager to say it all. “I don’t hate androids, if that’s what you think. I’m grateful.”

The light turned green and they started to drive forward again. The moment stayed with them, the car was stuffed with it. The air felt so heavy that Connor’s fingers searched for the window button to roll it down. The cold air rolled into the car and it was clear enough for him to suck some in.

**_[Scanning…]_ **

**_[Chris Miller, Date of Birth: September 30th, 2009]_ **

**_[Running Investigative Analysis…]_ **

Connor glanced sideways. The scan picked apart Miller’s body language and studied the tone of his voice. He was looking for dishonesty or malice. He tried to find any sign that Officer Miller was trying to harm him. He scanned through his past experiences and tried to rank the most likely outcomes to interacting with him.

All of the reports came back the same. Officer Miller was being open and truthful. He was sincere. At least his body language came off that way. Connor’s grip stayed tight on the steering wheel. He needed to stay calm. Every fact in the situation told him that Miller wasn’t going to hurt him but some unnamed PC200 stayed in the forefront of his mind.

“What are you doing after work?” Miller asked, plucking Connor from his thoughts.

It came up out of nowhere, like a distraction or a desperate attempt to maintain contact. Connor wasn’t sure how to go about the situation. The prospect of getting a different partner was grim. There were few officers who have interacted with him as friendly and accepting as Miller always had been. He didn’t want to leave the department and go back to being useless.

“After work I’m going to go home and rest. I have some cleaning I didn’t get to do yesterday,” Connor said.

Officer Miller hummed. The sound lingered in the air. Detroit was far too quiet today and Connor was curious about the crime rates in the city being so high and yet today there was nothing. Not a single criminal to distract from everything else in Connor’s life.

“Do you want to come to my place for dinner? My wife thinks it’s really cool you’re the exact same age as Damian,” Officer Miller said. He spoke calm and yet pleading, but that didn’t change all of the conflicting thoughts bouncing around in his head. Connor was about to say ‘no’ when Miller rushed out one final plea. “I have a dog!”

Connor’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. He huffed a sigh out of his nose. He was desperate to keep his job and not return to a life of wasting away being a burden in Hank’s home. He would have to move past this incident.

“Fine,” Connor said.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Connor sat perplexed on the sofa with the baby cooing in his lap. Damian leaned against him, mouth gnawing on Connor’s fingers. The baby was six months old, babbling softly as he stared up at Connor with round, wide eyes. He seemed to recognize Connor as a stranger. His eyes kept darting around, seeking out his parents before interacting with Connor.

Damian was fascinated by the blue spinning light on Connor’s temple. It had been yellow when he arrived, unsure of what sort of environment he was wandering into when he went to the address Miller had provided him. He didn’t know if he trusted to be safe here, but the best course of action was whatever was best for his employment, not necessarily him personally. Connor had been ushered to the couch after he left his shoes at the door. Officer Miller insisted on his comfort. He insisted that Connor sit down and meet the family and relax before dinner.

Connor didn’t realize that he should have mentioned he didn’t need to eat food and having a meal had never been appealing to him in the past. He didn’t mention anything, instead focusing on the baby in his lap, tugging on the front of his shirt and stretching a hand out to grab at Connor’s LED.

Damian’s nails had been carefully trimmed and the soft fingertips slid lightly over Connor’s face. Sitting down in his lap, Damian was only able to reach Connor’s chin anyway, occasionally managing to tug on Connor’s lip. It made Miller laugh, a smile stretched wide over his face. Damian looked over to his father when he heard the sound, breaking out into laughter as well.

**_[Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 11%]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: v22%]_ **

“He likes you!” Miller said. He put a hand over his mouth to try and stifle the laughter.

“How can you tell?” Connor asked.

“He’s not screaming,” Miller said.

Connor smiled. “Oh.”

“Ohohoh,” Damian babbled out, once against reaching both hands up to Connor’s face.

**_[Warning!: Proximity Alert]_ **

Miller stood up and stepped around the coffee table, hands outstretched for Damian. Connor pulled his hands back, leaving enough space for Miller to grab his baby without obstacles. He made sure to keep Miller’s hands away from his own. He grabbed his wrists behind his back and he pressed his fingers against the small circular ridges in the plastimetal left from the burn.

Officer Miller lifted the baby off of Connor’s lap, high enough for Damian’s feet to plant firmly on Connor’s legs. Hands grabbed at his face, fingers finally able to prod and scratch at the LED, which had flicked to yellow and quickly back to blue. He saw the light shining in the baby’s eyes.

**_[Stress Levels: ^25%]_ **

“Here, hold him like this,” Miller said.

He stretched out his fingers. Leaving space for Connor to hold around Damian’s waist. His tiny hands kept grabbing at Connor’s face and he had to close his eyes against the assault. He wrinkled his nose and pulled back slightly. He took hold of Damian and Miller’s hands quickly pulled away. Connor opened his eyes again to watch him walk back to his seat.

With the coffee table between them it seemed like Miller was sitting so far away. The distance was a clear display of trust as Connor had Miller’s infant son in his hands. Damian bounced on his toes and kept tapping his hands against Connor’s temple, the flashing light holding his attention.

“Yeah he really likes you. I didn’t know you were so good with kids,” Miller said.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, Officer Miller,” Connor said.

“You can call me by my name. Chris. We’re not at work,” Miller said.

“Okay.”

“We’re friends, you know?”

Connor nodded. “I know.”

Damian pressed his lips together and blew, spit bubbles splattered out into Connor’s face. The baby then broke into laughter again. He seemed so happy to be able to reach Connor’s face. He had never held a baby before. This was entirely new to him.

“It’s weird, you two are the same age,” Miller said.

“I thought it was established that my first memory was a few days before Damian was born. My model existed before that moment,” Connor said.

Miller laughed. He was still smiling. The expression was analyzed and came back as genuine.

“Maybe so. But I think it counts all the same,” Miller said. He pressed his lips together, the expression made his smile turn quickly from genuine to stiff. It was like Miller’s train of thought had jumped. “You know I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for saving my life.”

The shift in tone was so far from what Connor thought Miller would say. He assumed Miller would want to talk about the repairs again. Or about the baby. Or perhaps Miller would want to talk about what he thought of having an android as a partner.

**_[Accessing Memory Files…]_ **

**_[Scanning Related Memory “Officer Chris Miller”...]_ **

**_[Error: No Related Memory Found]_ **

“I don’t recall ever saving your life,” Connor said softly.

“But you did. At Stratford Tower, when that deviant nearly shot all of us. You saved us,” Miller said.

Connor blinked as his mind made the connection. The discrepancy was detected immediately after.

“Officer Miller, your life was saved when Lieutenant Anderson shielded your body with his own. Nothing I did would have changed that,” Connor said. He was certain of these reconstructed outcomes.

Damian blew bubbles out of his mouth again, splattering spit against Connor’s face. Babies were very messy.

“Okay, but you saved Hank. And my name is Chris and you saved me too. You acted so fast I didn’t even realize what was happening. And then you grabbed Agent-“

“I’m aware of what I did, Chris,” Connor said quickly.

Miller’s mouth opened and Connor tensed as he waited for more retellings of a very bad memory. He didn’t like thinking about that day, another moment when he killed an android. Connor hadn’t even thought about it when it happened. He saw Hank’s chance of survival, saw the gun, and reacted.

It was public knowledge the number of androids Connor had killed while working as a machine. He was a murderer. It was something Markus had pardoned him of back in the church that night, but it didn’t absolve him of it.

“Anyway, I’m really glad you’re okay. I thought you were gonna die or something and I know things were awkward yesterday because of What Reed said,” Chris said. The weight of his gaze was crushing. Connor couldn’t meet his eyes.

**_[Stress Levels: ^28%]_ **

Damian started bouncing, jumping on Connor’s legs and babbling the entire time. The LED had flickered red for just a moment, long enough to recapture the baby’s attention. Hands started to grab for it again, this time Damian had a greater energy about it. Connor smiled, leaning his head down so Damian could get a closer look to the blinking light he wanted so much. He didn’t expect the baby to open his mouth wide and try to devour it, wet tongue licking the side of Connor’s face.

Connor pulled back, holding Damian straight out in front of him with his short legs kicking into the sudden open air. Chris fell back in his seat and snorted with laughter. The saliva had begun to cool rapidly from where it was stuck to Connor’s temple. It was such a strange thing to do. Never before had Connor been in a situation like this, but every database search he did on infant behavior told him that it was normal for babies to explore with their mouths.

Damian giggled with his father as he kicked his feet. Connor sucked in a deep breath and pressed his lips together. It felt wrong being here. He felt the need to smile but he hesitated.

**_[“Your friend Chris got a PC200 in the chest”]_ **

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

This was not something people did with someone they wanted to hurt. Chris would have never brought him here to meet his son and pet his dog if it wasn’t with sincerity. Right? Chris had shot an android before but that didn’t mean he was going to shoot Connor.

**_[Error: Unable to Determine Threat Level]_ **

**_[Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Leave The Area]_ **

**_[Ask Chris For An Explanation]_ **

**_[Ask To Pet The Dog]_ **

**_[Thank Chris For Inviting Him]_ **

**_[Error: Unable to Determine Threat Level]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^30%]_ **

“You said you had a dog?” Connor said quickly as the very demanding line of messages overpowering his HUD. It blinded him, the glowing red script that didn’t seem to help him. It all just confused him further.

“Oh! I do, she’s in the room. Don’t move,” Chris hopped to his feet down the hall.

Damian cooed, reaching his hands out towards the direction his father had disappeared down. Connor stayed where he was, not moving, not even daring to continue his simulated breathing. He didn’t move the baby from his hands. He didn’t get off the couch. He waited for the dog, the only reason he came, and then he would be sure he was safe. Chris wouldn’t bring him here if he wanted Connor to hold his baby and pet his dog if he was just going to hurt him.

Chris came back into the living room, a dog nestled in his arms like a delicate package. A brown furred snout rested on Chris’s shoulder as if the animal wished to cuddle with him. Connor stood up immediately, baby Damian cooing at the sudden change, having never seen a dog like this before. The tail that stuck out from between Chris’s arms was wagging furiously.

**_[Scanning…]_ **

“This is Princess Poppy, she’s eight years old, and she’s a beagle. We actually got her as a wedding gift,” Chris said, beaming proudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor has friends! Some people are nice to him! He’s building healthy relationships!


	7. Chapter 7

Connor brought home leftovers. Kate Miller was a very generous woman, though she insisted he take home food despite the fact that Connor didn’t need to eat. Hank would enjoy it at least. He stepped out of the automatic taxi with a victorious smile pushing through on his lips. He wanted Hank to know about his night. He wanted Hank to know that Damian stared at him all through dinner and that Connor had snuck food to Princess Poppy under the table. He didn’t need to eat after all. Poppy did.

He held on tightly to the plastic grocery bag and pulled his keys from his back pocket when he found the front door locked. Hank’s car was in the driveway, he had to be home. When he pushed open the door he saw the dim room lit up with the flashing lights of the tv and Hank nowhere in sight.

**_[Stress Levels: ^33%]_ **

**_[Scanning Area…]_ **

**_[...]_ **

In seconds he pieced together the scene. Hank was in the bathroom. The light was visible from the door. Though the tv was on, the volume was muted and Hank had been sitting in the dining room. A few snack wrappers laid out around the black labeled bottle that sat in the middle of the table. The food was a good idea, Connor decided. Hank needed good food.

He had to walk by the table on his way into the kitchen. His eyes followed the bottle, half empty, still sitting with the lid off. The fumes lingered in the air. Connor wondered if it made the air taste. If it smelled. Connor’s systems just picked up the presence of it, and yet he still wrinkled his nose.

He plucked the bottle off of the table as he walked on by. He didn’t know Hank had one stashed away. Each time Connor found the bottle on the table he found his processors buzzing in discomfort. His stress rose. Connor hated the bottle, which hadn’t been accompanied by the revolver in months, but the implication was still there. Hank was in pain tonight. It was tempting to just pour the whiskey down the drain. He was tempted to throw it all out and act like nothing happened. Hank wanted to poison himself tonight, numb the pain, stop it entirely if he had the chance. Connor couldn’t let that happen. And Hank would be furious.

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

**_[“I’d throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it.”]_ **

**_[“Are you afraid to die, Connor?]_ **

Connor turned around quickly, the voices whispering in his ear, just over his shoulder. The bottle slipped from his fingers. It sounded like Hank, the memories flashed before his eyes of the man grabbing him by the front of his shirt and shaking him. There was a gun pointed to his head. But no one was there, he was alone in the kitchen, and no one had said a thing.

**_[Warning!: Arm Malfunction]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics…]_ **

**_[Error: No Issues Found]_ **

The bottle hardly lingered in the air at all, flinging itself away as it dropped from Connor’s grip. It was too far before he had time to catch it. His eyes looking for the unknown source of the voice and not looking to move to catch it. Connor let it fall. The sound of glass shattering pierced the quiet house.

A door in the hallways burst open. Connor could do nothing but sit there and stare at the puddle of whiskey and broken glass.

“Connor?” Hank said as he turned the corner.

**_[Stress Levels: ^46%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

“What the fuck happened?” Hank asked as his eyes landed on the mess.

“It was an accident. I dropped it,” Connor said.

“Well, what are you doing touching it in the first place? It’s my goddamn shit and you can’t leave it alone?” Hank said. His voice grew louder.

He was angry.

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 67%]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^51%]_ **

Connor’s stress levels had taken such a sharp jump in such a short time. He took a small step back as Hank marched into the kitchen, wide eyes still focused on the shattered bottle.

He should lie. The truth was that he planned to get rid of it, even if he was going to change his mind he still picked it up with that intention. And if he told Hank the truth then the man would only get angrier. Connor didn’t know what the man would do.

**_[“Set a match to it”]_ **

Connor’s hand curled into a tight fist, hiding it behind his back. Hank was angry. The man grabbed one of the chairs that stuck out slightly from the table and blocked his most direct path, his fingers hooked around it, and shoved it out of the way. It scraped loudly against the ground before slowing to a halt. Hank started to walk around the broken glass to head straight for Connor. There was still fire in his eyes. His body was still tense with anger.

“It was an accident,” Connor said quickly. He found himself backing up until his back hit the counters.

“How the fuck is that an accident? You know it pisses me off that you think you can just do whatever you want. You shouldn’t even be touching my stuff! I can’t have one goddamn night without you hassling me?” Hank’s voice was loud, staying that volume despite how close he was getting to Connor.

He couldn’t move back any further. Connor’s back was pressed against the counter and if he wanted to keep moving away from Hank he should move towards the back door. He could easily hop the back fence and run. Connor could outrun Hank even if the man wasn’t intoxicated. He didn’t know where he would go afterwards.

**_[Stress Levels: ^57%]_ **

Connor started to debate the amount of damage Hank could cause in this state if he decided to just let the man get his anger out. The thought led nowhere. Hank’s foot was caught on the table leg, tripping him as he marched around the broken glass. Connor reached out, quickly stepping forward, arms outstretched to catch him. He was able to steady Hank, grabbing his shoulders.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Hank growled.

**_[Warning!: Proximity Alert]_ **

Hands were grabbing him, gripping tightly at the front of Connor’s shirt. First they tugged, and then they pushed. Connor moved with them, focusing on keeping his feet under him so he could keep his balance. He didn’t want to fall. Each time someone had shoved him down it was hard enough to damage him. It would be best to avoid being damaged. As soon as the hands let go of him Connor stumbled backwards.

**_[Stress Levels: ^64%]_ **

Hank sat in the ground, having stumbled enough to lose his balance. Connor had been too distracted, too focused on backing away from Hank’s hands that he didn’t stop his friend from tumbling into the mess of whiskey and broken glass.

“God damn it! Of fucking course,” Hank hissed, shifting slightly in his spot. He lifted his hands up. Blood dripped slowly out of shallow cuts, smeared and dirty from the spilled whiskey that Hank now sat in.

Connor stayed where he was, pressed back against the counter. His mind didn’t stop working, his processors scanning and reporting on everything he saw. It alerted him the moment it detected blood, demanding he investigate. Connor couldn’t bring himself to move closer. He couldn’t move at all. Hank looked furious and it was Connor’s fault.

His fault.

**_[Warning!: Elevated Stress]_ **

**_[Apologize to Hank]_ **

**_[Flee the Building]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

Connor gripped the counter, his fingers tightening against it to the point he could hear the wood creak and bend against the strain. He shouldn’t have touched the bottle. Connor shouldn’t have done anything.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said quickly, trying to force the words out. It was difficult, he almost felt his voice physically drag itself up his throat.

“I don’t care just fucking help me up!” Hank said.

Connor wrinkled his nose and blinked quickly as Hank’s loud voice pierced his ears. His fingers didn’t want to be pried away from the counter. He didn’t want to move closer. Hank grunted, shaking his hands out as whiskey and blood drops flew from his fingers. Each red droplet highlighted itself on Connor’s HUD.

**_[Stress Levels: ^67%]_ **

He took a step closer once he finally let go. His joints felt stiff, like he couldn’t quite move how he needed to. Connor was designed with a full range of motion that now felt like it had been diminished to nothing. Hank reached out to him, grabbing hold of Connor’s hand so he could pull himself up. It took a moment, Hank wasn’t nearly as able as maintaining his balance. It was up to Connor to make sure Hank didn’t fall down again.

“I apologize for all the trouble, Hank. It was an accident,” Connor said.

Hank scoffed, gripping Connor’s hands tightly.

“Accident, right,” Hank said. As soon as he was standing steady he pulled back, plucking his hands from Connor’s as if the touch burned. “Always bragging about being worth a fortune and yet it’s all accidents. Just so fucking happened to be my bottle that got broken. The one thing you’re always bitching about.”

Hank turned his back to Connor and walked towards the fridge. There needed to be more distance between them. They couldn’t stand to close. Connor backed up towards the counter, his eyes lingered on Hank as he grabbed a cold beer. The kitchen had finally gone quiet, the moment settling between them.

“I didn’t mean to break your bottle. It slipped from my fingers,” Connor said softly. He needed to explain. Maybe Hank wouldn’t be angry if he knew Connor hadn’t meant it.

“Bullshit and you know it. Can’t you fucking leave me the hell alone? I’m a grown man and I would like you to keep your hands off of my stuff. I don’t need you to baby me! I don’t need yoi to hold my hand. My goddamn house and I can’t even have a drink,” Hank was ranting. He was furious. His eyes darted around the kitchen, looking from the mess, the fridge, and to the bag of food on the counter. He looked everywhere except at Connor.

“Mrs. Miller sent me home with leftovers for you. I was just...it was on the table,” Connor said.

Hank started rubbing at his eyes, scrubbed his hands over his face, and let out a loud, frustrated groan. He stood up straight, swaying from foot to foot, and took a long drink of his beer. Connor didn’t have a heart, there should be no heavy weight in his chest pounding against his torso.

**_[Stress Levels: ^70%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

“What did she make?”

“What?” Connor asked.

**_[Chance of Further Violence: v54%]_ **

“I asked what she made?” Hank said again.

“She made chicken alfredo. There is also garlic bread. She sent dessert. I can prepare it all for you,” Connor said.

His attention lingered on some of his scans. He was less likely now to be injured. The longer they sat there talking, time passing since the bottle breaking incident, meant things were less likely to get violent. Connor just had to keep a distracting conversation going, one that promoted appeasement.

His hands curled tightly behind his back, fingernails digging into his palms. Hank wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were squeezed tightly closed with his fingers still pinching the bridge of his nose. Connor’s fingers curled tighter, he felt the skin program fizzle in his coding.

**_[Warning!: Arm Malfunction]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics…]_ **

**_[Error: No Issues Found]_ **

He felt the strain in his fingers. He wondered how much pressure his fingers could handle until they broke. His nail got the ridge of the burn scar. His fingers curved as his nail scraped over it. Connor shifted his weight from foot to foot. He wanted to say something. He wanted to find a way to ensure Hank’s forgiveness.

Hank let out a loud sigh.

“Fine. Whatever,” Hank said. Straightened himself and walked out of the kitchen to plop down on the couch. He lifted the remote in hand and unmuted it, the sound of some sports game loudly filled the house.

Connor turned around and braced his hands against the counter. He closed his eyes and leaned over the counter. The food still sat in the plastic grocery bag. It wouldn’t take long for him to heat it up and present it to be served. He could get Hank another beer perhaps, a peace offering.

This was an awful feeling. A tightness in his chest. There was stress in knowing Hank was furious with him. Connor was nervous. His hands were shaking. He held them straight out in front of himself and watched them tremble in the air. It wasn’t something an android was supposed to do. He wasn’t supposed to be this unstable. His body was malfunctioning. A twisting sense filled his abdomen. It was something he hadn’t felt since Amanda had dragged him into the Zen Garden, forced him to pull out the gun, and wander aimlessly through that blizzard. The feeling was something to be akin to fear. He was learning his emotions for the first time and wondered if this was what being terrified meant. 

**_[Stress Levels: 75%]_ **

What had him so startled? His hands were shaking. Was he losing control of his body? Was he breaking down? A similar enough sensation to bring back the gut reaction of fear. Connor found it the most logical explanation for something like this. He wasn’t supposed to be trembling and the lack of control in his body caused an intense emotional reaction. Connor nodded silently to himself. He curled his fingers back into his palms, hands turned into fosts, and had them squeezed so tightly to see if that would get the trembling under control.

It didn’t.

Perhaps it was the repairs. They weren’t withstanding. Connor should have been prepared for this. The androids of New Jericho didn’t care for him. Why would his repairs be anything more than temporarily adequate?

Connor decided the next best option was to ignore it until he could get maintenance. He was a prototype, he didn’t have access to much in his model information, many patents still belonged to Cyberlife. Perhaps he was only meant for short term, for testing. He was degrading. Connor could think of no other reasons as to why his hands were shaking. He hoped no one would notice.

Connor quickly focused on the task at hand.

**_[Primary Task: Prepare Leftovers For Hank]_ **

**_[Secondary Tasks Available…]_ **

**_[Clean Up Mess From Bottle]_ **

**_[Clean The Dishes]_ **

**_[Take Out The Trash]_ **

**_[Wait]_ **

Connor was careful to keep his grip tight as he took the plate from the cupboard. He didn't want to drop anything else. He unpacked the food and set it in the microwave. Each second passed by under Connor’s watchful gaze until it started to ding that it was done. He never took his eyes off of the plate of food. He made sure everything was at a sufficient temperature. He grabbed another beer from the fridge.

Hank’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest when Connor walked into the living room. The tension was thick in the air as Hank stared pointedly at the tv. He didn’t acknowledge Connor in the room, right next to him setting the food and drink on the coffee table. Connor took the empty beer bottle with him on his way back to the kitchen.

**_[Primary Task: Prepare Leftovers For Hank]_ **

**_[Status: Complete]_ **

**_[Secondary Tasks Available…]_ **

**_[Clean Up Mess From Bottle]_ **

**_[Clean The Dishes]_ **

**_[Take Out The Trash]_ **

**_[Wait]_ **

Connor threw the bottle in the trash. His hands were still shaking. He kept them low, close to his body so he could easily hide them from view. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Hank was not looking at him.

He needed to keep busy. Connor grabbed the broom, which had been tucked into the space between the wall and the fridge. His main priority should be to clean up the broken glass.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Hank had fallen asleep on the couch halfway through his meal. Connor cleaned up. The evidence of the night was taken out to the trash when all the chores were finished. There was nothing left on the list for the night.

**_[Wait]_ **

His place during the night was usually on that couch. He would be in stasis there until morning. With Hank in that spot Connor wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go now. His place was not in Hank’s room and it certainly wasn’t in the sealed off, mysterious second bedroom no one ever went into. Connor decided his place was at the table.

Once everything was clean, including the mess he had discovered in the bathroom, he took his seat and waited there until morning. His hands eventually stopped shaking. His body eventually settled down entirely.

His stress had fallen.

**_[Stress Levels: 22%]_ **

Connor waited until he couldn’t anymore. He was sure to put on his uniform and tidy himself up before he needed to bother Hank.

“Hank, we’re expected at the station in twenty minutes,” Connor said. He stood a good two feet away from the couch.

Hank didn’t stir. Connor waited again. 

**_[Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[No Threat Detected]_ **

“Hank, it’s time to get up,” Connor said gently. He took a step closer.

He eyed the messages in his HUD suspiciously. Hank was asleep and yet that nervous pit in Connor’s stomach still twisted. Hank was hungover. When he woke up he would still be angry. Even more so. Angry enough to take the couch from Connor permanently, instead of just for the night.

His hands lingered in the air, debating on whether he should wake up Hank or not. He had never stopped to wonder about it before. 

**_[Calling Automatic Taxi…]_ **

Connor backed up, his hand dropped to his side. Hank was slumped over on the couch, head not properly supported by the cushions. His muscles would ache under the strain of holding that position for too long. Connor decided he didn’t want to be here when Hank woke up. He had made too many mistakes the night before.

Connor waited on the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. Hank would sleep. He was an adult who didn’t need Connor’s interference. He didn’t need Connor. The last thing Connor wanted to do was give Hank a reason to get rid of him.

He reached up and rubbed his forehead. A bullet could easily tear through the plating of his skull. It didn’t even do well against a flight of stairs. Hank had threatened to do it before. Legally, it would be a murder. Still, he wasn’t sure if New Jericho would call for an investigation. He was already doubting the integrity of their repairs. They didn't care if he fell apart. The questions he had been asked during his repairs just confused him on their intentions.

**_[Alert!: Automatic Taxi Has Arrived]_ **

**_[Thank You For Using Our Service!]_ **

Connor left the house without making a sound. He locked the door on his way out. It was the first time since Connor was allowed to return to work that he hadn’t gone to the station with Hank in his old car. It was far too quiet in the taxi, a soft melody of relaxing music filled the cabin and Connor didn’t bother connecting to the provided controller to change it to the loud, screeching heavy metal he was used to in the morning.

The car ride seemed to last forever until it reached the station.

**_[Primary Task: Find Officer Miller]_ **

**_[Secondary Tasks Available…]_ **

**_[Prepare Hank’s Coffee]_ **

**_[Report to Captain Fowler]_ **

**_[Avoid Detective Reed]_ **

Connor’s eyes drifted over the precinct when he walked in alone. Reed’s desk was empty at the moment, but a steaming cup of coffee sitting on a stack of papers implied that he was close by. Most days Connor was able to slip out of the station without an incident, but somehow not having Hank here made Connor more nervous. But it was just the second day since he had fallen down the stairs.

Connor kept his eyes drifting over the room until he made it to his desk safely. Everyone seemed to look at him more. Everyone’s eyes drifted over him, eyeing his repairs just as Miller had done the day before. Connor finally let his eyes fall to his desk and stopped scanning the area. He needed to focus on his job. Connor would show everyone he was still capable of being useful to the DPD. Connor still had a job.

**_[Warning! Proximity Alert]_ **

“I was right, you know. Android died because it tripped and cracked it’s head open. We picked up the human and got the whole story,” Reed’s voice rang out in Connor’s ears.

Reed didn’t touch him. He plopped down on the edge of Connor’s desk, sitting over him, close enough to touch. Connor didn’t want to be touched.

“Case closed,” Reed said.

**_[Stress Levels: ^37%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 52%]_ **

Connor frowned. He wanted to disagree. He wanted to argue. The android was murder. There were signs of a struggle. The human had fled the scene. It wasn’t Connor’s case.

He should say something, but Connor already knew the consequences of speaking out of line with Detective Reed. This was the first time Reed had ever sought Connor out in front of so many people. He wouldn’t hurt him here in front of everyone, would he? Now that it displayed itself as a possibility, Connor couldn’t see why he wouldn’t. Fowler hardly reprimanded Reed for the reported burn. Reed had hurt Connor in front of others before. But before wasn’t supposed to matter anymore.

“You gonna say anything or just sit there looking stupid? Are you still broken?” Reed asked, raising an eyebrow.

“How can you talk to me as if nothing happened?” Connor whispered.

This was his desk, Connor’s, and he felt the need to thrust his hands out and push Reed off of it. He didn’t want Reed sitting on it. Hank had sat on Connor’s desk before. But Reed was different.

“Did you forget? You fell down the stairs and I helped you up. Besides, you look good as new. It’s like nothing happened,” Reed said. He smiled, his eyes narrowing as the wide grin spread across his face. “In fact, you should be thanking me.”

**_[Stress Levels: ^40%]_ **

**_[Ask Reed To Leave Him Alone]_ **

**_[Refuse To Continue The Lie]_ **

**_[Thank Reed]_ **

Connor could not let interpersonal drama affect his work. He needed to keep his job. His jaw clenched shut tightly, his teeth grinding together. He kept his mouth shut, his lips opening up to push out the words.

“Thank you, Reed,” Connor said.

**_[Warning!: Proximity Alert]_ **

  
  


“What are you thanking him for?” Chris walked up and settled his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, Connor. What are you thanking me for?” Reed asked.

Connor wrinkled his nose. He let his eyes linger on his desktop. His hands were folded on his lap, fingers curled tightly around each other. He didn’t want to say it, but he wanted Reed to leave without an incident.

“I was thanking him for helping me when I fell down the stairs,” Connor said. His tone felt too flat.

“Right,” Chris said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m practically a hero,” Reed said.

Chris hummed, his expression pinched as he turned back to Connor. Officer Miller seemed annoyed. The conversation about Connor’s injuries wasn’t just making him uneasy.

“Yeah, okay,” Miller said. He turned towards Connor a bit more. “Where’s Hank? Did he like dinner?”

**_[Stress Levels: ^43%]_ **

**_[Lie]_ **

**_[Truth]_ **

**_[Speak to Reed]_ **

**_[Say Nothing]_ **

“Hank liked it a lot,” Connor said.

Chris nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. His nodding slowed but his eyes kept lingering on Connor. Reed was still sitting on his desk, still looking at them, close enough to touch if he just reached out.

“And?” Chris asked.

“And?”

Chris laughed. “You know, where is he?”

“He’s at home,” Connor said.

Connor understood social conventions enough to know that he should be saying more. Chris and Reed were staring at him. They were waiting for him to speak. He didn’t like that Reed was watching him, judging him. This felt like a test. Reed wanted him to behave.

**_[Stress Levels: ^46%]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

“He’s not feeling well,” Connor continued.

Admitting that Hank was angry with him would be a mistake. It was another flaw. Chris had a lot of respect for Hank, even when Connor had first been sent to the DPD, Chris had the most patience with him. The behavioral reports and issues at work had fallen substantially in recent months, Connor had hoped Hank had found some bit of stability since the revolution. The economy was growing for the first time in years, androids were capable of holding jobs and owning property. Sales and production had doubled. Prices were dropping. Everyone was happier than when Connor had first woken up to the world. Hank had seemed happier for a while.

“Hungover as shit, right?” Reed was laughing.

Chris’s eyes darted up to Connor’s temple. He quickly turned away, hand darting up to cover it. It had blinked red. It was just a flash, a few blinks of crimson that reflected in Chris’s eyes. Reed was looking too, still chuckling as he curiously looked at how Connor hid his LED away.

“You okay?”

“Sorry,” Connor said.

“You’re not okay,” Chris said.

“I’m fine. It’s taking time for me to get used to the repairs.”

Reed leaned closer and Connor looked down at his desk, his hand still pressed against his temple. He felt the warm breath on his cheek as Reed hovered near him.

“Didn’t they fix you?” Reed asked.

“Should I take you back to get it fixed? I can tell Fowler you need a sick day?”

Connor shook his head before Chris even finished talking. He could tell by the way Reed wrinkled his nose in an annoyed grimace that he didn’t like the suggestion.

“No, no. Androids don’t get sick,” Connor said calmly. When he was sure his LED would stay blue he let his hand drop to the desk.

“You’re injured I’m sure he will let you,” Chris said.

“I am fine. It’ll sort itself out, I would rather just move past this incident,” Connor said firmly. He stood up, taking a step back from Reed hovering over him and Chris’s constant concern. And Hank, who would come in at any time and still be angry with him. “I would really rather go on patrol.”


	8. Chapter 8

It was like nothing happened. Connor prefered it in a way. If everyone acted like nothing happened then that's what it was. There was no lasting damage. Connor could let out the stiff tension that had built up inside, clogging his joints and clouding his chest. Hank was at his desk when Connor came back from patrol. When Connor went to sit at his desk across from him, Hank actually looked up at him.

“Good day?” Hank asked.

**_[Stress Levels: ^26%]_ **

“Yes. It was busier than usual,” Connor said.

Hank nodded, his hands fiddling with the paper files in front of him. Connor could just make out enough details to see a murder investigation before his eyes suddenly darted up and to the side. Reed sat at his desk, the stack of papers still had the coffee cup sitting on top, no longer steaming. Connor blinked, waiting for the man to turn around and look at him. He wondered if Reed would be angry to catch Connor staring.

Reed didn’t turn around.

“You guys get a lot of calls?”

Connor turned back to Hank, head tilting to the side. It really was like nothing happened. He didn’t understand why humans did that, act like the arguments and the conflicts didn’t happen. It was never talked about. Until it happened again, everyone involved just ignored the tension. Connor didn’t mind it. His whole body seemed to loosen in relief that Hank wasn’t still angry. Hank wasn’t going to berate him in front of the entire precinct.

**_[Objective: Act Like It Never Happened]_ **

“We did. Most of them were just minor public disturbances. But there was an armed robbery at a convenience store,” Connor said.

Hank hummed as he leaned far back in his chair. He cupped his hands behind his hair, shaking out the shaggy strands of his long hair. Connor watched the movement, eyes lingering on what Hank did with his hands.

“Did you make any arrests?”

Connor nodded. “Yes, yes,” He said quickly. “It was a human. They were also in possession of red ice. The man wasn’t violent but we had to give chase.”

**_[Warning!: Proximity Alert]_ **

“You should have seen him, took off like a bullet. I just had to blink and Connor was gone chasing after that guy. I couldn’t keep up. Thought I lost him,” Chris said, walking up to Hank’s desk with a smile.

Hank laughed, shaking his head. “He does that all the time. Pisses me off but he loves chasing perps. So tell me, Connor, how is an armed robbery non-violent?”

“He was armed with a Phillips screwdriver shoved into his front pocket. He dropped it when he started running,” Connor said.

Hank kept laughing and Chris joined in as well. The two humans seemed to find the situation funny. He had already remotely started filing his report and the details all seemed procedural. Possession of an illegal substance, attempted robbery, and resisting arrest. Connor frowned. The situation didn’t seem funny.

**_[Stress Levels: 28%]_ **

“I got it for evidence though,” Chris said. “But there was no chance I could keep up with Connor.”

“It’s impossible. You know he one time tried to run out onto the freeway to chase some suspects?” Hank said. He was still laughing.

Chris was laughing.

“It was a woman and her little girl. They weren’t suspects. They were just deviants,” Connor said quickly.

Hank grimaced. “Well, the point is that you tried, but you didn’t. Talked his dumbass off the fence. He gets really into chasing shit.”

Connor looked down at his hands, knowing that both men were looking at him. He wished he never had to talk about it again, but his life experiences were limited. There wasn’t much else to discuss when his friends led the conversation to be about him. It was a strange feeling, knowing that all he was seemed to be that title. He had amounted to be nothing else.

**_[Stress Levels: ^31%]_ **

“Anyway, how did you like dinner?” Chris asked.

Connor turned away from them, focusing on his desks and his hands. His fingers were twitching slightly, tapping unconsciously in an unsteady pattern. His coin could help. Maybe his hands were struggling to calibrate since the injuries. Maybe he was falling apart. He quietly reached into his pocket for his quarter. He gripped it tight, the ridges dug into his synthetic skin which caused the projection to flicker. If he kept his hands under his desk then no one would notice.

He flicked it between his fingers, letting the coin turn and slide across his knuckles. It was effortless, it had always been effortless. Connor was aware that it wasn’t as easy for humans, they saw the coin flicking as a trick. A gimmick. It wasn’t something they could do without tremendous practice and Connor hardly gave it any thought at all.

He had control. That little coin did whatever he wanted. His fingers did what he wanted them to do. No more twitching. Connor watched his hands. He scanned them again and again to see any sign of shaking. He was certain the instability was under control. Connor was under control. He let out a slow breath as he continued to twirl his coin.

**_[Stress Levels: v29%]_ **

He had to return to New Jericho soon for maintenance. They wanted to make sure the repairs were adjusting to his workload, that there were no serious issues in the few days since his injury. There had been issues, Connor felt the issues in his body. Even before he fell down the stairs there had been issues. The plating of his arm shouldn’t have broken so easily when Reed pushed him in the break room. He shouldn’t have the lingering errors.

He pulled them up from his memory files, posting them on his HUD.

**_[Warning!: Arm Malfunction]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics…]_ **

**_[Error: No Issues Found]_ **

He shouldn’t have errors like this.

**_[Warning!: Proximity Alert]_ **

Connor quickly moved away from the hand that waved in front of his eyes. His hands opened as he pulled them close to his body, tucking them against his stomach as he turned slightly in his chair, angling himself away. Hank and Chris both stared at him. They wouldn’t stop. They were seeing the red blinking rapidly from his LED. They didn’t look away from him as the quarter dropped loudly against the tiles underneath him and rolled across the floor.

**_[Stress Levels: ^^37%]_ **

He stood up immediately, two steps back from where Chris’s hand lingered in the air.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Chris said. His eyes narrowed. “You okay? You were kinda spacing out there.”

“I need my quarter.”

Connor walked away. His eyes traced the path it had taken. It had travelled a few feet, under a couple of desks, and then came to rest two desks down from Reed’s. He was still sitting there, but hadn’t looked up. Connor didn't hesitate in his steps, but his eyes lingered on Reed’s back as he walked through the rows of desks towards his quarter. Reed didn’t turn. He didn’t lift his head. He wouldn’t notice.

He felt a rush of relief when he finally reached it. His fingers were twitching again. He saw them shaking as he crouched down and held his hands out to grab it.

**_[Warning!: Proximity Alert]_ **

Connor yanked his hand back and watched as the boot came down heavily on top of his quarter. He looked up at Sergeant Kramer, whose desk Connor was crouched next to.

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 31%]_ **

He had only spoken a few words to Sergeant Kramer in passing. There was a single significant memory that Connor could look to estimate the change of Kramer attempting to injure him. Although it wasn’t a pleasant memory and Kramer wasn’t the central part of the incident.

He had been at the bar. A group of officers had come out for a smoke break. Only a few officers, Connor had their names all marked and highlighted when scanned for threats. Still, Reed was the only one to actively attempt to harm him. The others just watched.

“Hello, Sergeant Kramer. I hope you’ve had a good day. I didn’t mean to bother you, I was just attempting to retrieve my coin,” Connor said calmly.

**_[Stress Levels: ^41%]_ **

Sergeant Kramer looked down at the ground and shrugged. “I don’t see anything.”

Reed was looking over his shoulder at them. They were too close to him, he could hear them. Connor glanced off to the side where he saw Hank and Chris talking to one another, their bodies leaning slightly towards one another. They were too involved in their conversation to look over.

“You’re stepping on it,” Connor said softly.

Kramer looked down. He moved his boot, sliding it across the floor without lifting it. They both could hear the quarter scraping against the tiles. It was still under his shoe.

“Nope, nothing there.” Kramer said.

Reed stood up from his desk.

“I’m sorry to disturb you then,” Connor said as he took several steps back.

He marched quickly back to his desk. The closer he got the more evident it was that they were whispering. Their body language was stiff.

**_[Stress Levels: ^44%]_ **

Chris’s tone was low and snippy. “Well yeah, it kinda is my business whe-“

“I’m ready to go home,” Connor said quickly, interrupting whatever conversation they were having.

Both men stopped their whispered conversation and pulled away from one another as Connor stepped up to them. He didn’t care what they were talking about. He didn’t care that Hank and Chris had both hardly touched their reports. Connor could file them from home. He will even do Hank’s and Chris’s if it meant they would let him leave.

“Yeah. I think it’s time to call it a day,” Hank said. He took a few steps backwards until he could grab his coat. “See you tomorrow, Chris. I’ll think about what you said.”

“Right,” Chris said. He braced his hands in his hips.

Connor turned away from the two of them, quickly slipping on his own police jacket and grabbing anything he needed to bring home with him. He didn’t want to look back and see Reed, Kramer, or even Officer Chen looking at him. He didn’t want them to bother him anymore.

“Connor, let me know if you need anything,” Chris said as Connor finished getting ready to leave. Hank had fished his keys from his pocket and waited off to the side for him.

“Of course, Officer Miller.” Connor smiled.

“My name is Chris.”

“I know,” Connor said. He tried to return the smile, attempting to mimic the calm expression on Chris’s face. He didn’t feel calm.

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^50%]_ **

He followed Hank, but his attention drifted back around the precinct. Sergeant Kramer was at his desk, leaning far back in his chair, flicking the quarter. Connor’s quarter. It wasn’t an elaborate trick. It wasn’t anything technical or advanced. A simple flick up and catch it as it falls down. Kramer was watching him. He smiled when he caught Connor watching.

He had to look away. He went looking for Reed, wanting to locate him one last time to make sure he wasn’t close by.

“Who’s that?” Connor asked, his steps slowing as they walked past the holding cells.

Hank looked over to Reed, who stood at one of the glass walls to talk to someone detained behind it. Connor shouldn’t ask, he shouldn’t seek out any involvement with Reed at all and just keep his distance, but his need for information was demanding. It could be helpful. Information could help him find a way out of this.

“That’s the girl they picked up on that murder you and Chris called in a few days ago,” Hank said. His tone was drawn out.

Connor tilted his head slightly. “Detective Reed told me it was deemed an accident. There was no arrest.”

“No,” Hank said. He frowned, eyebrows drawn together. “They arrested someone. They had the thing’s memory scanned.”

“Why would Reed lie to me?” Connor followed in line when Hank pulled lightly on his arm towards the exit.

Hank shrugged.

“Maybe he just wanted to fuck with you. He’s an asshole like that.”

**_[Stress Levels: ^56]_ **

**_[“Had the thing’s memory scanned.”]_ **

**_[“The Thing”]_ **

**_[Relationship: vvHank{Distrustful}]_ **

Connor’s hands were shaking again. He curled them into tight fists as he followed Hank out to the car.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Connor smiled at the receptionist when he returned to New Jericho. It didn’t stop the WE900 from wrinkling her nose at the sight of him. His scans brought up her serial number, displaying nothing but basic manufacturing information from his databases.

“Good morning. I have an appointment,” Connor said, his gaze dropping slightly to look at something else. There was a small display of pamphlets to the side, digital magazines in the waiting area, and he avoided looking at the android’s face again.

“Name, model, and serial number?” Her tone was polite.

“RK800 #313 248 317 - 52,” He said. His fingers twitched, tapping slightly at the air. “My name is Connor.”

“Of course,” She muttered under her breath.

**_[Scanning…]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^52%]_ **

The infirmary was nice. He hadn’t gotten a chance to look around last time. Last time he had been rushed through a different entrance. There had been so many androids then, some who stood off to the side and watched him with wide horrified eyes. He wondered what they all must have thought seeing him, what they thought he had done.

The lobby was significantly brighter than the other way he had come in. Large windows nearly took up the entire front wall and the high ceilings made the light seem to pour in. It was a beautiful room. Connor let his eyes drift around him, at the distance between him and everyone else, at the pretty paintings lining the walls, and wondered if the building was given to New Jericho as it was or if it was renovated when the androids acquired it.

“Yes, you’re early,” the receptionist said.

Connor nodded. He knew he was early. Forty-Seven minutes early. He had slipped out of the house before Hank had even woken up, intent on coming to his appointment alone.

“I know. I can wait,” he said. 

He should have gone somewhere else to wait. The goal was to leave before Hank woke up, but that didn’t mean he had to go to Jericho so soon. Connor’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t want to curl them into fists. Tightening his hands had always seemed to calm the shaking, but he didn't want to appear tense and threatening here.

The WE900 hummed, prompting Connor to glance up at her. Her nose was still slightly wrinkled and a stiff smile played on her lips.

“That’s fine but,” she hesitated, lips pressed together as her eyes drifted around the lobby behind him, “try not to bother anyone else please.”

**_[Stress Levels: ^55%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[No Threats Detected]_ **

“I understand,” Connor said as he stepped back from the receptionists desk.

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

He turned his attention fully to the pamphlet stand. Many of them seemed to be directed fully towards androids, offering any new or updated information on android health and psychology, android rights, and programs that New Jericho offered to all androids now that it was legally classified as a public service. None of the pamphlets seemed to apply to him.

“What’s the point of the pamphlets?” Connor asked.

The WE900 looked over to him. Connor wondered if she always looked so strained, eyes narrowing at him.

“Information.”

Connor nodded. “I understand, but any androids with access to the internet should be able to reach this information.”

“But they won’t look it up if it’s not right in front of their faces. We want to make sure they know.”

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^58%]_ **

He picked a few pamphlets, just to glance through. The receptionist was right, the information wasn’t anything he had thought to look up before. He had constant access to it, but had never thought to bring into focus. One pamphlet listed the medical benefits androids receive now that they were legally defined as citizens. 

Another pamphlet discussed public housing assistance within New Jericho. Families could apply for houses. Individuals could apply for group or private homes. They were also calling for volunteers to repair and renovate the buildings donated by The City of Detroit.

The final pamphlet he had picked up was about the adoptable android animals. Connor hadn’t considered how the striking burst of human and android tension caused by the revolution would have affected the android pets throughout the city. He could apply for adoption online.

**_[Accessing the Internet…]_ **

**_[Welcome To The Association For Android Animals!]_ **

**_[View Our Mission]_ **

**_[Browse Our Animals]_ **

**_[Volunteer]_ **

**_[Donate]_ **

**_> [Volunteer]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_> [Browse Our Animals]_ **

**_[Dogs Available: 42]_ **

**_[Cats Available: 102]_ **

**_[Rabbits Available: 17]_ **

**_[Turtles Ava-_ **

**_[Warning!: Proximity Alert]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^63%]_ **

Connor took a few quick steps back, turning to face the person approaching him. He was expecting the MC500 in Thirty-Six minutes. They were to discuss the integrity of his repairs and Connor wanted to ask about the instability. His fingers twitched against the pamphlets, the paper crinkling. He quickly shoved them into his pockets. 

“Hello Josh,” Connor said quickly. “I think it’s an interesting touch with the paper.”

Josh’s steps faltered. “I’m sorry?”

“The pamphlets are paper,” Connor said.

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

“I like the paper,” Josh said with a smile.

Connor turned back to the pamphlet stand, eyes drifting over the different colors in the graphics, all calling for his attention. He had only gotten three. With the interruption he was able to consider that he should ask Hank’s permission before adopting an animal to bring into his house.

“Do you have a moment?” Josh asked.

“I have an appointment in Thirty-Five minutes,” Connor said.

“I won’t be long. I just had a few ideas I wanted to discuss with you,” Josh said.

Connor nodded. He had time if Josh needed him for something. He and Simon were the ones he had to report to regarding android relations within the DPD. He wanted to discuss the murder, witholding the classified information, and the conflicting behaviors from the investogating officers. Reed wouldn’t know it was him. But if he was angry then Connor worried about being targeted regardless. Besides, it was just bullying. Reed still made the arrest.

He followed Josh back to his office. The room had been painted deep forest green that coupled with the dark wood of Josh’s desk and bookcases somehow lit up warmly when the sunlight came in through the windows. The shelves were cluttered with more than just books. It was far more disorganized than he had assumed Josh’s personal space to be.

He stood in the doorway as Josh walked around his desk.

“Come in. Please sit down.” Josh waved his hand towards the chair opposite him.

Connor did as he was instructed and silently took a seat. He let his hands rest on his thighs and his head hung slightly. He could feel Josh watching him. The androids here at New Jericho always seemed to take special interest in watching him.

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[No Threats Detected]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Running Threat Analysis]_ **

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 13%]_ **

Josh was a pacifist, Connor reminded himself. Josh wouldn’t hurt him.

“I had a few ideas that I would like your involvement with. Are you familiar with our Social Support Programs?” Josh asked.

Connor had only three pamphlets.

**_[Accessing The Internet…]_ **

**_[Search: ‘New Jericho’ + ‘Social Support Programs’]_ **

“New Jericho offers a range of programs dedicated to assisting those having difficulty building and maintaining social relationships. There's an assortment of services designed to cover the varying ranges of assistance needed.” Connor recited the information he had found.

Josh nodded. “Yes. We have a buddy program. Certain models of androids have specialized functions for their work. For example, certain security androids were never designed to have social programs. In these cases, even as deviants, they have issues with socializing.”

“I understand,” Connor said. His fingers tapped against his thighs.

“Good! I’m glad. I was wondering if you would like to join?” Josh asked.

Connor tilted his head to the side. “There must be a mistake. The RK800 model was designed to have rather advanced social programming in place in order to be the perfect partner and integrate effortless into any group.”

Josh smiled again and let out a soft laugh. His chair creaked as he shifted in it to lean more against his desk, inclined towards Connor.

There was more to it. Connor was designed to analyze the psychology and behaviour of humans and androids. It was for manipulation. His function as a police assistant included that as a negotiator and interrogator. His social programming had undertones of purposes Connor wasn’t sure what to do with.

“You’re also a prototype,” Josh said.

**_[Define: ‘Prototype’]_ **

**_[Noun]_ **

**_[Definition: ‘a first, typical or preliminary model of something, especially a machine, from which other forms are developed or copied’]_ **

“That means I’m state of the art,” Connor said calmly.

“It means you’re unfinished.”

**_[Stress Levels: ^66%]_ **

Connor’s whole body reacted to the statement. He knew it was true. He even suspected it was the cause of several issues he had been experiencing lately. The shaking. The fluctuating stress. The recent errors. He wasn’t finished. He was incomplete. Flawed. Barely above useless.

“You want to assign me a friend?” Connor asked, rushing the words out. He kept his LED blue. He kept his gaze low, not meeting Josh’s eyes. Something felt like it was curling in his stomach and around his chest, attempting to squeeze him until he got sick.

“You could refer to it as that. A lot of androids have issues making friends and we have found that social isolation can degrade mental health. In humans and androids. We’ve noticed that you might benefit from a program like this,” Josh said.

They assumed he was unstable. They were questioning his mental health. It had hardly been any time at all and already Connor saw the stepping stones that would lead to ending his employment. They would find someone else. He would go back to being nothing.

“I have friends. I’m fitting in very well at the police station,” Connor said with an eager nod.

Josh’s body language shifted, his back straightened, and Connor looked up quickly to see him smile brightly.

“That’s wonderful! And your friends outside of work?”

Connor nodded again. “I have been to Officer Miller’s home. He invited me to meet his family. He has a beagle named Princess Poppy.”

“No, Connor I-“ Josh paused a moment to let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. He was still smiling. “I meant any friends you don’t work with.”

There was no one.

**_[Listing Interpersonal Connections…]_ **

**_[Hank Anderson: Friend{Distrustful}{D.O.B. 09/06/1985}]_ **

**_[Chris Miller: Friend{Casual}{D.O.B. 09/30/2009}]_ **

Those were the only two names classified as friends. He didn’t have anyone categorized as an ‘acquaintance’ either. All of his other coworkers were listed simply as that, coworkers. There was a threat level for each one.

**_[Lie]_ **

**_[Truth]_ **

“I have friends,” Connor said flatly.

Josh sighed. “Alright, could you consider it a favor to me?”

“A favor?”

“Yes.” Josh bobbed his head eagerly. “I have a friend who hasn’t been able to find a suitable companion through the program and I thought you might be a good fit.”

“You said he was your friend,” Connor pointed out.

“Since I help oversee the program, there’s a power dynamic that prevents me from actually participating,” Josh said. His tone hadn’t shifted much, despite Connor’s hesitation. He sounded constantly calm and open. “The program involves weekly workshops, but we also encourage friends to meet and interact in their own personal time.”

Connor sat quietly. He didn’t think any android would enjoy being assigned him as a friend. He didn’t think any android would like to associate with him at all.

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

“Are you sure they would be alright with me?”

“I think the two of you would be great friends. You don’t have to attend the workshops, perhaps just start with lunch? It could be a supervised meeting, if you would like.” Josh let his words tumble out quickly, his excitement leaking into his voice.

It was strange that Josh had considered him at all. Connor didn’t expect to be asked so directly to become more involved in the organization. It had been months and outside of his uses in the police department they had seemed to have no need for him.

“As long as they know who I am beforehand, if they still want to meet me, then I can attempt to be their friend. Lunch,” Connor said.

Androids didn’t need to eat, but stating something so obvious to Josh felt redundant.

“Perfect, I’ll send you the details once it's arranged,” Josh said.

There wasn’t enough time to return to the pamphlet stand before his appointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am loving every comment you guys are giving me. Thank you!!
> 
> Perhaps Connor is finally going to get support??


	9. Chapter 9

“We can’t find anything wrong with your hands.”

Connor sat quietly as the MC500 spoke quickly. They had done body scans, stress tests on his libs, and gave his processors a routine restart to clear any backlog of subroutines running. He felt better. His body felt a bit more steady after the simple tune up. He had allowed himself to believe that it was done. His hands didn’t shake at the moment. He could breathe more clearly. He felt fine.

“We scanned your body, checked the stability of all your joints, and looked at the repairs, but nothing that would explain the tremors. We don’t believe there's a physical problem,”the MC500 said, still standing at the terminal looking over the results. “We thought it might be from mental strain, since you haven’t had any routine maintenance in months there were also a lot of subroutines running that we turned off, just to clear up your processors. We think that’s what has been causing your high stress.”

Connor’s HUD was mostly clear. There was no longer a red bar of scans displaying the threat risks. His proximity scans were turned off. It did make him feel better. As the MC500 stepped back from the terminal and approached Connor slowly and came closer and Connor wasn’t being alerted. His mind was quiet. Perhaps that was his only problem because he hadn’t undergone maintenance since this body had woken up. Not since before the revolution, in Cyberlife tower. Back when he was an empty shell and a different Connor was running around Detroit as a machine.

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

**_[Sequence Cancelled]_ **

“It can be managed then?” Connor asked.

“After clearing those subroutines your stress dropped. Have you felt any shakiness or tremors since we finished?”

Connor shook his head. He held his hands out in front of him, fingers spread. Completely steady. Not even the slightest tremble was detected. He hadn’t wanted to lose his hands. How long would Fowler have let him remain an officer if his hands shook too much for him to hold his weapon?

The other android nodded. “Yes, I think that the shaking and clumsiness you described can be managed fine with regular maintenance.”

Connor mimicked the MC500, nodding along with him as he spoke. It all sounded so simple now that it was laid out and his mind was clear.

**_[Stress Levels: v21%]_ **

“If the tremors continue then report it to us right away.”

Mental strain. Connor wondered if it was funny, that his hands shook because he was stressed. Androids weren’t supposed to do that. Humans did that. He paused his movements, tilting his head in thought. The backlog being cleared and his stress falling did coincide with his fingers settling down, but he didn’t see how they could be connected.

“I don’t think that’s correct. There must be something else,” Connor said quickly. His hands were mechanical. He wouldn’t be shaking if not for a mechanical reason.

He was a prototype.

**_[“Unfinished”]_ **

Of course he wasn’t working properly.

“I’m sorry? What would you like me to explain further?”

Connor looked up at him again, stopping just before he had to meet his eyes. There was a nametag, Darren, that clearly labeled himself as an ‘MC500- Medical Android’. Despite how close he came, no proximity alert flashed and there was no scan for the level of threat the medical android posed. They were turned off now. Leaving them on indefinitely wasn’t good for his processors. Darren said it was the reason he was stressed.

His stress had dropped since Darren had finished with the maintenance. His body felt more stable. His mind was quiet. Connor wasn’t so young and foolish enough to believe that this feeling was permanent. He would need to turn the scans on. He needed to know, for his own safety, when someone was close to him. He needed to know when someone was a threat. Connor could not return to the station without the subroutines running. There had to be another reason.

“I don’t think mental strain is my problem. How seriously did you look into the integrity of your repairs? Is it possible you made a mistake?” Connor said. He pressed his hand against the front of his pocket, felt the paper pamphlet, and pulled up any information available on his medical rights.

“I did look into the repairs. I couldn’t find anything wrong.”

**_[Stress Levels: ^29%]_ **

“Did you actually look?”

Connor’s choice sounded loud and piercing compared to the silence that followed after it. His eyes darted upwards, seeing Darren’s narrow as he looked down at him. He didn’t look. He either thought he hadn’t made a mistake in the repairs or he didn’t care for Connor enough for the effort.

“Of course I looked. Repairs often need to be worked on a few times. Sometimes androids don’t settle into them well. Your repairs are holding up,” Darren said. His voice was calm. He had his arms flat at his side.

Connor resisted the urge to run a threat analysis. He didn’t want to start the subroutines again so soon. The MC500 was making it clear with his tone and body language that there was nothing to fear. Connor was certain he wouldn’t be overpowered and attacked by a medical android.

“I’m a prototype. Perhaps I’m defective,” Connor said.

**_[“Unfinished”]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^34%]_ **

The nearby terminal dinged. Connor was still remotely connected to it. Darren backed up, eyes drifting to the screen and Connor once again let his chin drop to his chest so he could watch his hands in his lap.

“Am I making you stressed, Connor?”

“No.”

He wished he could enjoy the quiet in his mind while it lasted. Just this once he wanted to be allowed to enjoy something good, something he didn’t deserve.

“I’m sorry I don’t have the answers you’re looking for. Unfortunately, we don’t have access to your designs for me to be able to get a solid idea of how you should be functioning,” Darren said.

**_[Accessing Design Schematics{RK800}...]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Information Request Denied]_ **

There was nothing they could do about that. The RK800 was still a privately owned patent. Cyberlife, despite everything the revolution had done, still scrambled to secure as much of its private property as it could. The designs and blueprints for every widely released and mass produced android were now available to the public as it was information vital to an android’s health and upkeep. Connor didn’t fall into the category.

“What about my arm?”

“I told you, I don’t know why it’s shaking,” Darren sighed.

Connor shook his head. He felt like the little hula girl on Hank’s dashboard, always bobbing around. “No, not that. I- A few weeks ago I tripped. I didn’t fall hard or particularly fast, but the plating on my arm cracked anyway. Maybe it’s connected.”

“They used a very lightweight material to build you,” the MC500, Darren, said. His tone was calm and relaxed. He could have been saying anything at all and it would have sounded non-urgent.

“I am supposed to be lightweight,” Connor said. He didn’t enjoy how relaxed the conversation seemed. “I can’t be too heavy or I wouldn’t be as agile.”

**_[Stress Levels: ^46%]_**

“Yeah, but it could cause the more frequently stained plates to wear over time. We can repair it if anything comes up. I did notice the crack before, already fairly progressed in its self-healing. You said you tripped?” Darren asked. His eyes drifted back to the screen, Connor’s status clearly displayed to him. 

“Yes. It was an accident. I’ve been clumsy lately,” Connor said. He straightened his back and wrinkled his nose. He didn’t know how he was supposed to get himself fixed when he couldn’t think of an excuse for what happened. “It should have been stronger and it broke anyway. Maybe that’s why.”

“Well considering how clogged your processors were with all that stored info and running programs, I’m not surprised. Our movements are somewhat conscious, we can stumble if we’re distracted.” Darren said. He sounded so patient and calm. He sounded like he could do this all day while Connor felt like he was being spun around in circles. “The clumsiness you described is normal for new deviants. You’ll just need some basic maintenance every few months. Other than the mental strain and stress from you overwhelmed processors and just a bit of weakened plating, you’re perfectly fine. Your joints are holding together very well and shouldn’t allow for any tremors.”

Connor pushed out an annoyed sigh, exhaling from his nose. It didn’t _feel_ right. Something about him wasn’t correct. He couldn’t find out what quite was wrong, but it felt more serious and far deeper within him than the MC500 seemed willing to check.

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[They Don’t Want Me Here]_ **

“This will all remain private?” Connor asked.

“Of course. Nothing we discuss or anything in your file will be shared without your permission.”

Connor pursed his lips. Darren was going to tell people there was something wrong with him. They would know he was defective. He couldn’t work with shaking hands and Darren refused to fix them. He wouldn’t look deeper. Connor wanted to leave. He was ready to get out of New Jericho. He didn’t want any more of the androids talking to him, or looking at him, or asking him to keep his distance as if it was dangerous just being in the same room as him. What was Connor supposed to do now?

He stood up, turning slightly away from Darren as he took in Connor’s movements. His eyes drifted back to the terminal. He couldn’t read Connor’s thoughts. He couldn’t know that Connor was suspicious of him. It was just his status, displaying a slightly elevated stress, and no other issues at all. Connor forced a smile, his lips twisting up calmly, his eyes glued to the shine tiled floor between the two of them.

“Thank you so much for your help and advice. I’ll be sure to schedule regular maintanence. I appreciate your time,” Connor said. His tone was flat. No one was going to help him here.

**_[Stress Levels: ^^59%]_ **

**_[Objective: Leave New Jericho]_ **

“We still have time if you had anything else bothering you,” Darren said.

“There’s nothing bothering me. You said so yourself, I’m perfectly fine,” Connor began to walk towards the door.

He had to walk past Darren to leave. The other android had been perfectly positioned at the terminal, directly between Connor and the exit. It was sometimes difficult for Connor to understand the actions of others. If they didn’t want him here, if they didn’t want to be bothered by him or reminded of how much harm he had caused, then why would they make it so difficult for him to leave? Why would they pull him aside and offer him friends? Why would they insist he partake in their ‘social support programs’ and have an important job on the police department if they would really rather they not deal with him at all. They wanted him to fall apart. They wanted him fired. They wanted to prove that he was useless so they could finally be rid of him without guilt.

**_[Objective: Leave New Jericho]_ **

  
  


“Thank you.”

He walked past Darren quickly while trying not to appear like he wanted to avoid him.

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Objective: Be Left Alone]_ **

He didn’t leave through the lobby. It was too peaceful there. The receptionist didn’t want to see him. He took the other way, the one they had rushed him through before. It was pulled up in his memory, a map to that side exit where he could hopefully slip away. Connor walked quickly down the hallway, not wanting Darren to be able to follow after him. He felt rushed, the sound of his shoes pattering against the tiles hit his ears like a rapid heartbeat. The florescent lights were blinding, they were burning into his eyes. He could hardly see but his feet still followed the path he remembered. Connor kept his head low, wishing he could hide his face from view so none of the androids he passed would know it was him. They didn’t want him here.

He pushed through the exit door and sucked in a breath, hoping the early spring air was cold enough to help cool the rising tension in his chest. The sunlight beat down on top of him, burning him even worse that the indoor lighting had. Connor couldn’t stop. He had escaped the building but he still didn’t need to be here. Anywhere in New Jericho wasn’t safe, not for him. Not when any android could walk by and see him.

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Objective: Leave New Jericho]_ **

The closest exit out of the district was on the West side of New Jericho, the opposite direction he had come in from. He could call a taxi. Connor would be willing to walk the blocks around the area to get where he needed to be. As long as he avoided the looks from others, he didn’t care. Connor kept his eyes on the ground in front of him. He didn’t want to look up to see if any androids were out and could see him. His pace was fast, barely less than a sprint. He needed to leave.

**_[Stress Levels: ^^71%]_ **

**_[Leave]_ **

To leave he had to pass through parts of New Jericho he had never been in before. Clusters of residential buildings and androids focused business. Jericho was a neighborhood full of things Connor had never seen before, in the human populated areas of town. He didn’t stop to look around. Nothing here was for him. No one wanted to see him here. He was bothering them.

He didn’t let his eyes lift far from the pavement, certain that if he looked up he would see them looking at him, staring in contempt. He could hear the whispers drifting through the streets about him. There was a sense of urgency. The most important thing was that he left. He didn’t want anything else from here.

He followed the GPS until he crossed the line. Until the satellite told him he had passed the legal boundaries of the New Jericho district. Connor turned the corner, bracing his hand against the wall and leaned down. His other hand grabbed his knee in an attempt to steady himself. There was something _wrong_ with him. He was broken and shouldn’t be acting like this. Connor wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“You’re staying?” Connor asked, tilting his head to the side.

Hank nodded, slapping his hand on top of the stack of papers falling loose from their file folders. Paper files were messy and disorganized. It was too easy to get them in the wrong order or packed away in the wrong place and then who knew what kind of complications would come from that. Hank was a homicide investigator, a mistake in his paperwork could be catastrophic.

“Feeling a tiny bit motivated so I might as well try to get some of it out of the way,” Hank said.

**_[Scanning…]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

Hank’s body language wasn’t motivated. His body was slumping over slightly, his elbow propped on his desk as he leaned against it. Everything about how Hank held himself said that he was tired.

**_[Insist Hank Rest]_ **

**_[Encourage Hank To Finish His Work]_ **

**_[Offer To Finish It For Him]_ **

“I could do your paperwork if you would like. It would be faster if I do it,” Connor said. 

“I can do my own paperwork,” Hank said.

Connor smiled. “Yes, but I can do it better.”

“Better? I’ve been doing paperwork for longer than you’ve been alive!” Hank laughed. He snorted through his nose and smacked the top of the paperwork again.

The humor was that Connor was a few months old while Hank was in his Fifties. Humans always seemed to find it funny how young he was. He was the same age as Damian, who was starting to roll and scoot across the floor. Chris had many videos that he had begun to message Connor directly, all of Damian babbling and moving and existing. There was always a flush of excitement and joy that Connor felt with his partner whenever the man shared his baby and Connor got to happily point out that Damian was hitting many of his seven month milestones.

“I can still do it better, Hank. Don’t embarrass yourself,” Connor said, mimicking Hank’s teasing smile. He liked that they could still do that. The testing. It meant they were still friends.

**_[Hank Anderson{D.O.B. 09/06/1985}]_ **

“I can only embarrass myself if I let you get away with the amount of disrespect I’ve been getting.” Hank was still grinning.

He wasn’t going to take his paperwork seriously. Connor knew already that Hank could only take things seriously for a few minutes at a time. The man was always quick to get bored, which led to him getting cranky and annoyed, and then the important, serious thing would never get done. It was a repeated pattern.

“Quit thinking so hard. You’re going to blow a gasket one of these days with how hard you get your head running,” Hank said.

“My mind has been quite clear recently, in fact. I probably would have had the paperwork half finished by now if you would just let me do it. We could go home at a reasonable time,” Connor said.

Hank shook his head. His smile flattened, his lips pressed together. It was just a slight shift in behavior and mood. Hank’s fingers tapped nervously on his stack paperwork.

“I don’t want to go home and sit in that house for the rest of the night. I don’t feel like doing that today and it’ll be better for everyone if I stay here and get my paperwork done. You can go home and relax, make sure Sumo doesn’t get bored,” Hank said calmly, his mouth stretched back into a more convincing smile.

**_[Stress Levels: ^29%]_ **

**_[Objective: Act Like It Never Happened]_ **

“I could wait here for you,” Connor offered.

“No, I don’t want you holed up at the office all night. You have a date tomorrow,” Hank said. He lifted his hand and pointed. “You need your beauty sleep. Plus you gotta find something to wear. You need a new outfit because I’m sick of seeing the same three sets of clothes on a rotation.”

“It’s not a date, Lieutenant. We are supposed to become friends. I think I might not go anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t you go?”

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

“I have very advanced social programs designed to make me the perfect partner. I don’t want to take advantage of a program that I don’t need,” Connor said. It was still a partial truth. It didn’t weigh too heavily in his chest.

Hank wrinkled his nose and sucked in a small breath. His mouth opened and he leaned across his desk, towards Connor. There was something on the tip of his tongue that never made it out. A comment or statement or something that Hank seemed to have enough sense to stop before it made it out.

“What?” Connor asked. “What is it?”

The hesitation lingered. Hank had lost his words. Connor hated how emotions he didn’t know the name of yet always felt like they were physically curling in his chest and stomach. He felt sick. Androids weren’t supposed to feel sick. He didn’t need to be an advanced investigative model to figure out what Hank wanted to say. He thought Connor needed it.

**_[“Unfinished”]_ **

“I just figured that Josh is a really smart guy, right? He was a college android, right?” Hank asked.

Connor nodded. “Josh is a PJ500. I believe he taught history.”

“See, he’s a genius. So he said he wanted it to be a favor. Maybe he thinks you can really help his friend. You don’t want to let them down?” Hank’s voice was slow. His tone even.

“That’s not fair,” Connor said.

“Sometimes life isn’t fair, so go home and get some rest so you look good for your date tomorrow,” Hank said. He waved his hand to try and shoo Connor away. 

“It’s not a date.”

“Whatever. Now go,” Hank said.

**_[Direct Order: Go Home And Rest]_ **

Hank didn’t want him here and it was becoming clear that no amount of insisting on Connor’s part would change his mind. He hung his head and sighed. At least Hank wasn’t going home to drink. He had said so himself, it would be better for everyone if he stayed here instead of ‘going back to that house’. He just wanted Connor to go back alone.

“Try not to stay too late, Lieutenant. You likely need a lot more beauty sleep than I do. Let me know when you leave the office and I’ll be sure to have something prepared for you for dinner when you get there,” Connor said. He was expected to leave, and yet he felt like he shouldn’t. He had to think of something to offer. He could be useful still.

“That's the opposite of resting,” Hank said. He raised an eyebrow.

“They’ll be food waiting so don’t you bother getting anything on your way home. I'll start cooking and keep it warm. Don’t make me waste food.” Connor felt like he was pleading. About as close to begging as he could get without sounding desperate.

Hank chuckled and shook his head. “Fine. No junk food, just get out of here.”

Connor took the small victory with a final victorious nod and stood up from his desk. He was being dismissed and Hank would start to get agitated if Connor had continued to insist any longer. He wasn’t needed right now but the need to help still itched at his fingertips.

Instead of heading straight to the exit to call an automatic taxi, Connor went towards the breakroom. If Hank wanted to stay late to at least attempt the mountain of paperwork that was always piling up then Connor decided he should at least support him. He began making a cup of coffee to Hank’s usual specifications. He knew how much cream and sugar Hank liked and how long to hold it before it cooled to Hank’s prefered temperature. Connor knew his friend well enough to know that Hank would chug it the moment he got it.

Connor smiled once he was satisfied with the cup and turned to walk back to Hank’s desk to give it to him. He looked out over the almost empty bullpen, eyes drifting across the row of desks towards Hank, but froze halfway through. His eyes lingered on the steaming coffee cup resting on a stack of papers. He knew the desk.

He had gotten so addicted to the peace and quiet in his mind he had forgotten to turn the scans back in.

**_[Scanning…]_ **

**_[Warning!: Proximity Alert]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^^43%]_ **

Connor felt the hand curl around his elbow before he could even flinch at the closeness of the man. On instinct he tried to move away, nearly slipping out of those fingers before he tugged on Connor’s arm to pull him closer.

“You’re here late,” Reed said calmly in his ear.

Connor hated the calm tone everyone had begun using with him. Reed’s grip tightened on his arm, squeezing tightly. The coffee had spilled over into Connor’s fingers, but he considered it lucky He hadn't been grabbed on the other arm or he might have dropped the coffee cup altogether.

“You are as well,” Connor noted.

“I decided to stay for a bit, get some stress relief in. Why don’t you join me? It’ll be fun,” Reed said. He was standing so close that Connor’s sensors picked up his body temperature. It felt like it was burning him.

“I’m quite busy. Maybe another time,” Connor said. “Hank is expecting his coffee.”

“Really? Because he doesn’t seem to be missing you?” Reed said.

He was right. Hank was still slumped at his desk, a pencil dangling from his fingers, as he hovered over his desk in an attempt to concentrate. Connor stared at him and prayed that Hank would look up. The man was so easily distracted, any noise or movement from the corner of his eyes would tempt him away from his paperwork and Connor needed Hank to look up at him.

“Don’t be such a flake. I’m trying to be friends. Friends hang out after hours and it’s been a while since we had any quality time.”

Reed talked about it as if it were normal. As if Connor had nothing to fear. He took a few steps as Reed tugged again on his arm, pulling him off to the side away from the bullpen. Just a couple of steps and then Connor stopped.

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

“I can’t be injured like that again. I can’t do it, please let me go.”

Connor wasn’t above begging.

“Relax,” Reed said.

He was tugging Connor down a hallway one step at a time.

Connor wanted to scream.

**_[Stress Levels: ^49%]_ **

“You're not going to have another accident. I promise, you’re going to walk out of this station just fine just do what I fucking say,” Reed said quickly.

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Go Home And Rest]_ **

“I can’t. Please let me go,” Connor said. He whispered it, his voice scratched up his throat as he spoke. 

“If you don’t come on Connor then maybe you really will have an accident because I’m getting pissed off,” Reed tugged on his arm again, pulling hard towards the end of the hallway and Connors feet were finally stumbling forward to keep up. “Now shut the fuck up and come on.”

He needed to scream. He wanted to rip his arm out if Reed’s hold and sprint out of the station. He could lose his job. Jericho would be done with him and Hank wouldn’t have a reason to deal with him anymore.

He just had to be good. Reed had told him before that if he was good he would stop. Connor’s lips were sealed shut and his body was dragged limply along towards the stairs heading down towards the basement, where the shooting range was. Connor’s chest tightened.

**_[Direct Order: Shut The Fuck Up And Come On]_ **

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a few chapters since Reed has done anything besides being around the precinct being awful.
> 
> Also
> 
> Darren, the medical android: “heres the issues we found and my conclusion is that its causing order problems besides the shaking i dont know why youre so hung up on that”
> 
> Connor: your wrong and whatever is causing the shaking will kill me goodbye
> 
> Im sure Connor will be fine.
> 
> He’s making a new friend soon :)
> 
> Please comment


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the tags

There was blue splattered around the shooting range. Spots of thirium left trails along the walls and pools of it had spread in puddles all over the floor. It had been four months since the revolution, since they had brought any other androids down here, and yet the residue of so much evaporated thirium lingered. It had never been properly cleaned. Connor was the only in the world who could see it. 

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Move Unless You Want To Get Shot]_ **

He couldn’t move. The words sat heavy in front of his eyes in a demanding, unbearable red. He shouldn’t be seeing the words like this. He was a deviant now, there shouldn’t have been a wall separating his mind screaming at him to run and his body that refused to move. All except for his hands. His hands he kept clasped behind his back, fingers squeezed together, as they shook violently. Connor couldn’t make any of it stop. He wasn’t in control. His eyes looked from the red words and the blue spots of thirium. He drifted between the two, his LED flashing erratically.

He stood over by the targets where Reed had left him, surrounded by the evaporated thirium. He didn’t know why he had allowed himself to be dragged all the way here. He didn’t know why he couldn't get his body to move anymore. He should be able to step out of the way. Reed was behind the counter, gun pointed across the shooting range to Connor. He shouldn’t be here. If he ran as fast as he could then he would reach the exit in four seconds. He could be upstairs in ten. He could get Hank. Connor couldn’t move. 

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Move Unless You Want To Get Shot]_ **

A deviant shouldn’t be stopped by the red wall anymore. But a machine shouldn’t flinch at the loud crack of gunfire. Connor jumped. His skin felt like static. His chest and stomach were twisting inside of him. His eyes bore into the new bullet hole in the concrete behind him. Either Reed missed his shot or he didn’t, everything depended on where he was aiming.

There was a small applause as the three humans behind the counter broke into a fit of laughter. They thought it was funny. He pressed his lips together as his head twitched to the side, looking back at the bullet hole.

**_[Stress Levels: ^79%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Stress Levels Elevated]_ **

“Connor, come here!” Reed’s voice rang out across the room. His tone was shaky with his laughter. The gun was laid on the counter and his hand raised high in the air to wave for him.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t. His body wasn’t working. Reed had turned around to talk to his friends, Sergeant Kramer and Officer Chen. He was waving his arms, his voice echoing as he talked about how funny it was that he had jumped.

“Most advanced police robot they ever created and it jumps at the sound of gunfire. Kinda useless if you ask me, can’t even tell when it’s being shot at directly or not.” Reed’s voice carried.

Connor was a toy. He was entertainment for them tonight as they shot their guns and passed their jokes. It was after hours and they had passed $160 to the night guard by the weapons locker who wouldn’t look Connor in the eye when they shuffled past. He doubted anyone would care about misuse of the gun range. The most they’ll get would be written up for smoking on property, their cigarette smoke lingered in the air above them. Connor hadn’t moved the entire time, not since Reed walked him past the counter and off towards the row of targets painted into the cement wall. He didn’t think he could move anymore. That would be the last bit of his worth, as a statue in the gun range under the police station. Soon, someone would stop missing.

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

**_[“Anderson always got the head. Blue blood would splatter everywhere.”]_ **

“Connor, I said get the fuck over here!” Reed shouted across to him. 

**_[Direct Order: Get The Fuck Over Here]_ **

His limbs were stiff. He couldn’t breathe. It reminded him of that old movie Hank liked to watch, where the tin man was rusted in place for years. He would have been there forever had someone not come along to find him.

His steps started stumbling forward, his eyes tracing over the thirium spots. If he was shot then it would be murder. Androids could be murdered now. Reed wouldn’t do that. His limbs jerked in their movements as he walked to the counter where the humans were waiting for him.

“Were you scared?” Officer Chen asked.

“Of course it was, you saw how it flinched.” Sergeant Kramer said, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He leaned heavily against the counter and his eyes didn’t leave Connor as he rejoined the group of humans.

Connor ducked his head as he approached them. He had narrowed down the name of the emotion that was curling in his chest constantly, the one that made him want to scream and run and hide away. The same one that kept his feet firmly planted and his legs too stiff to carry him away. Shame. Guilt. Disgust. Something made him sick with himself. Half of him couldn’t handle the shame of knowing he should be stopping it. He was more than capable of handling himself if they wanted to harm him. He didn’t doubt he could fight them off. Even Sergeant Kramer, who was nearly twice Connor’s size in height and weight combined. It was no surprise at all every time Connor pulled up his employee file and saw a promising career in SWAT. Connor could stop this, even if he had to fight each of them.

The other half of him didn’t want to deal with the fallout. He would lose everything. He just needed a single slip up and he would be unfit for his job. He would go back to being useless. There was always the chance that there would be other work. Hank might let him stay if Connor found work quickly. He could pay bills, keep the house clean, and stay out of the way enough for Hank not to be sick of him. He could keep his place on the couch even if he lost his desk. Connor knew it wouldn’t work. Hank was already barely tolerating him. If Connor lost his job there would be no place for him. He didn’t belong anywhere.

**_[“Unfinished”]_ **

No one could know.

It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.

“No, it wasn’t scared. Wouldn’t even hurt it,” Reed said.

They all stood on the other side of the counter, separating Connor from the rest of them. He stood three feet back, out of arm’s reach so that no one would be able to grab him. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to stop them if he wanted to. His body didn’t work for him anymore.

**_[Stress Levels: 79%]_ **

“We don’t know that. Has he ever been shot before?” Chen asked. She stood a little farther back behind the counter, slightly turned away.

“Yes,” Kramer said. 

He was smiling again. Connor let his eyes drop to the ground. His hands were still behind his back shaking, but there was some relief in that there were no thirium stains this close to the front of the shooting range. No androids had died this close to where the human’s stood. They had to have called him over here for a reason, if to just torment him before sending him back to stand by the targets to fire at him again. He wished they would shoot him if to just spare him from the intense look in Sergeant Kramer’s eyes.

“You say that as if you know for sure,” Reed said.

Kramer nodded. “I do. I saw it get shot. Once in the arm and it acted as if it was nothing. Certainly didn’t flinch then. I don’t think it even cared as long as it got the little girl off the ledge. Now that was a weird mission, machines holding hostages, machines making demands, machines lying to machines. Craziest thing I ever saw.”

Connor tilted his head to the side, glancing up at the humans periodically as they spoke but his gaze always returned back down to the floor. He didn’t want to look behind him anymore. The incident Kramer was discussing had been months ago, long before he had ever been officially issued to the DPD for the deviant case. Before he had met Hank. It was even before he became Connor number 52. That event happened to a different Connor, one whose thirium stains Connor could still find in the interrogation room if he wanted. It was scrubbed better than the shooting range, but some of the residue was still there. Connor was the only one who could see it after all.

“I saw him get shot,” Reed chimed in, cigarette dangling from his lips. He whistled, holding a hand out and waving Connor closer. He hesitated for only a moment, eyes lingering on Reed’s hand outstretched for him. “Don’t you remember Connor? That one guy was stabbed like two dozen times by his own android and the thing didn’t even have the sense to leave the crime scene. I’ll give you this, you got the answers you needed, too bad he shot you in the head. That was crazy. I saw them haul your body off to the trash and the next day there you were again. Hold your hand out.”

**_[Direct Order: Hold Your Hand Out]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Get The Fuck Over Here]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Move Unless You Want To Get Shot]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^81%]_ **

Reed grabbed a handful of Connor’s shirt as soon as he was close enough and tugged him the rest of the way, until Connor was practically leaning over the counter towards the three humans. Officer Chen turned around and rocked on her heels, Sergeant Kramer took several steps closer, and Reed grabbed Connor by the wrist to move his arm for him.

“Open, palm up.”

Reed shook Connor’s wrist until the hand did as he was told. He grinned once he was satisfied, his fingers wrapped tightly around Connor’s wrist as he lifted up with his free hand to pluck the cigarette from his lips. A dozen prompts flashed across his vision, all blocked out by red demands that kept Connor from moving. Smoke drifted up out of Reed’s lips as he brought the glowing red ember down onto the palm of Connor’s hand.

**_[Temperature Warning!]_ **

**_[Minor Damage Detected]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^87%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Stress Critical]_ **

**_[Warning!: Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_Don’t Move_ **

**_Don’t_ **

“See, nothing hurts it. We can do whatever we want. Doesn’t feel a thing.”

Reed twisted the cigarette, ashes spreading and smearing as the ember was smashed out into his hand. It was deeper than last time. The cigarette stood, half crushed, in Connor’s hand when Reed finally let go of it. He held tight to Connor’s wrist, keeping it still while he admired his handy work. When Reed finally let go, Connor’s hands began trembling hard enough to knock the cigarette free so it fell down into the counter separating them.

The new mark was black, shining through the fizzling, damaged skin program. Ashes were stuck to it. Burnt into the thin, lightweight plating of his hand. He could see the dust. He could feel it. 

**_[Define: ‘Burn]_ **

**_[Verb]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[“Set A Match To It”]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^90%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Stress Critical]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

He clenched his hand tightly, his fingers sinking into the circular, ridged indent in his palm. It shouldn’t have happened again. He needed to stop shaking, he needed to get his body under control. He had no control. Connor wasn’t able to properly assess the situation, he couldn’t even scan the damage. He couldn’t scream no matter how much he needed to.

“You know, we’ve been down here for a while and you haven’t said a word. Very rude, right Zach?” Reed said.

Connor lifted his head at the name, looking first at Reed. He was looking at the man next to him. Sergeant Kramer was standing next to them, leaning in so close Connor could feel the warmth of his breath. Kramer’s smile was soft, small and almost unnoticeable except for how he bit his lower lip and the edges of his mouth still spread wide. He reached out, one large hand curling entirely around Connor’s wrist.

Officer Chen wasn’t looking at him. Her back was to them as she faced the exits. Connor wondered what she was looking for.

“Yeah, rude. I was starting to think it was so well behaved. At least it’s still pretty,” Kramer said slowly.

Reed snorted. “You say that but I don’t see it. All these damn androids are too dead in the eyes, I never got into it. But if you still want to take it you can, just don’t let Anderson know. He’s attached.”

“The ones at the clubs were better. They were built for it, you know?” Kramer said. His other hand reached up and held Connor by the chin.

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

“I’ll return the thing tomorrow,” Kramer said.

“Hear that Connor, we really are friends. I'm getting you laid. You should thank me,” Reed said. His eyes were digging into Connor again, burning as intensely as his cigarette did.

Connor swallowed. He should run. He should leave. Despite Kramer’s size, Connor could easily get out of the hold on his wrist. Fingers were generally weak and not difficult to break through.

“Thank me,” Reed said again.

Kramer’s hand tightened.

“Thank you, Reed.”

The words had to force themselves out. He could barely manage the whisper.

“I’ll take him home, actually.” Officer Chen said quickly. She approached the two men and looked Connor in the eyes for the first time. Her face expression was pinched, her eyes narrowed.

“”I got it,” Kramer said.

“No. Hank will know something’s up. You can’t just borrow his android for the night. He’ll come looking for him,” Chen said, tone a bit firmer. “Come on, Connor. Let’s go.”

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

Kramer thankfully let go without insisting further. His arm lingered in the air for a moment as Connor stumbled back, the hands leaving his body like the strings of a puppet. He thought he was falling. He was going to crash against the ground. He felt all these things, he felt the drop in his stomach, and yet he still stood steady. It was another emotion he didn’t quite have a name for yet.

“Go on,” Reed said. Connor ducked his head and followed Chen towards the exit.

He didn’t say anything on his way upstairs. The bullpen was empty. They had been down in the range for several hours according to his internal clock. Hank’s text was left abandoned and unreplied when the man left.

**_[3 Recent Messages{Hank Anderson}]_ **

**_[4 Missed Calls{Hank Anderson}]_ **

**_[Hank{07:13pm}:“Omw home better have something good ready”]_ **

Connor had nothing ready. The text had been sent a while ago, several had been sent. Messages that Connor hadn’t even noticed until now. He had been too caught up in the red words holding him in place, the pools of blue thirium that had evaporated a long time ago. The crack of gunfire.

Officer Chen’s car was about as old as Hank’s, but the inside was mostly spotless. She climbed into the car without a word and Connor stopped in his tracks. He tilted his head to the side as each message scrolled across his HUD. He was distracted, he couldn’t even remember following Chen the entire way through the station.

“Are you coming?” Officer Chen called out as her passenger window rolled down.

**_[Hank{07:26pm}: “Hey, ur not here?”_ **

**_[Hank{07:33pm}: “Connor?”]_ **

**_[Hank{07:45pm}: Missed Call]_ **

**_[Hank{07:4-_ **

Connor jumped back as Officer Chen laid on her car horn. Officer Chen had her windows rolled down the rest of the way, leaning across the seat in Connor’s direction.

“If you’re not gonna get in my car then you may as well wait for Zach. He’ll be leaving soon too,” Chen said.

He bobbed his head up and down in a nod and reached for the handle. Officer Chen had never actually done anything to harm him. She had only ever watched. She had seen almost all of it, if Connor wanted to look back on it. Tina Chen had been present for both of the cigarettes put out onto his skin. There was the time Reed had punched him in the stomach over a cup of coffee. He got into her car.

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 86%]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^92%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Stress Critical]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

He put on his seatbelt and placed his hands flat on his thighs. He stared at them. He couldn’t see the new mark from this angle. It was almost like it wasn’t there. He had grown accustomed to the old scar. It happened before the revolution and, as such, didn’t matter. He wasn’t a person then. Not that it made anything better now that he was.

“If you’re supposed to be alive then how come you let them do that to you?” Officer Chen asked as her car rolled out of the parking lot. It wobbled some.

Connor hummed. He couldn’t even control the sound slipping out of his mouth. He couldn’t control anything. Chen kept looking at him from the corner of her eye. She took a side road as a shortcut, one Hank always avoided because of the potholes. Loose change jingled in the handle of the car door, resting with the dirt and spare bits of garbage. 38 cents, Connor’s eyes lingered on the quarter.

**_[Tell Officer Chen About The Bent Tire Rod]_ **

**_[Ask Officer Chen To Mind Her Own Business]_ **

**_[Say Nothing]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

The car jerked under a pothole.

“I just figured that since you’re supposed to be so fancy and new-“

**_[Unfinished]_ **

“-you would be able to do something besides just stand there. But you don’t do anything.”

Why doesn’t he do anything? Why doesn’t he stop it?

“Say something,” Officer Chen said.

**_[Direct Order: Say Something]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

“I don’t know,” Connor said. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Officer Chen sighed. “Okay, you don’t know.”

Connor didn’t know what to do. He knew the logical paths to take but his chest clenched and his stomach churned at each plausible conclusion. Change always had the possibility of ending up worse.

**_[Incoming Call{Hank Anderson}...]_ **

Connor blinked. They were almost home. He was almost there. Officer Chen was going the right way now, pulling onto a smoother road, a familiar road. Connor let the call ring inside his head. He focused on Hank’s flashing name. Connor didn’t think he had an answer for whatever Hank wanted to say. Connor didn’t know anything. He didn’t.

“I don’t know,” Connor said again.

They lingered at a stop sign. He wished they hadn’t stopped. They were almost there. Why would she stop if they were almost there. Officer Chen turned in her seat, leaning in closer towards Connor. Her lips were pressed together tightly, jaw clenched shut. Her body was tense and Connor for a moment worried she was finally going to reach out and strike him. Perhaps she had caught him. The quarter from her car now hidden in the palm of Connor’s hand, he was squeezing it so hard the ridged edges scraped against his fresh burn mark. He wasn’t being good enough. He was bothering her. He wasn’t sitting still, he wasn’t at home relaxing, he didn’t have anything ready for Hank to eat. He wasn’t being good. He was failing his orders.

“It really freaked you out, didn’t it?” Chen said softly.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

The car kept moving. Connor’s attention drifted out the window and down to his hands. He didn’t have an excuse to give Hank. He didn’t have any answers for what happened. Hank would know something was wrong, he would see and hear and sense that Connor was broken and malfunctioning and nothing had even happened to him. They missed. They shot at him and they missed on purpose. It was a night with friends, Reed had said. That’s what friends do. Hank had done it before. Chris had done it before. The shooting range was still tinged with blue blood from so very long ago **_[Months Ago]_ ** and no one had bothered to deep clean the range enough to wash it away.

**_[Scanning For Possible Outcomes…]_ **

**_[Pre-Constructing Possible Events…]_ **

**_[Most Probably Situation Selected]_ **

The car stopped again outside Hank’s house. The porch light was on. Every light in the house was on, the blinds drawn open, and Connor could see from the window that Hank was pacing in the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear. His shoulders were tense.

Officer Chen didn’t say goodbye. She didn’t look at him again when he climbed out of his car and Connor didn’t look back at her as he walked up the front lawn. He had a lie selected. He had a logical answer for what happened to him. It made more sense than the truth. Of all the horrible things he had done, Connor felt he deserved punishment from Reed the least. 

The door was unlocked. Connor just had to walk in. He turned around as he shut it behind him, his back to the rest of the house. He hoped that if he didn’t have to look at Hank, the man wouldn’t notice he was there. At least for a few moments longer, not yet. Connor wasn’t ready yet.

“Jesus Christ, he just walked in Christ. I’ll let you know. What the fuck, Connor? Where were you?” Hank said quickly. He shifted from his phone conversation to talking to Connor in a swift series of sentences.

Connor didn’t know what to say. He held onto the doorknob as he listened to Hank’s heavy footsteps across the house, stomping from the kitchen to the living room, closer and closer. Hands grabbed him and pulled him away from the door. Large hands gripped his upper arms and Connor’s feet stumbled as he was pulled towards the dining room, into the light. He finally lifted his eyes to meet Hank’s. He was expecting anger.

**_[Error]_ **

“Are you okay? You scared the shit out of me, I thought something happened. I know you have your phone built into your head so I hope you had a good reason for ignoring me. Let me see you,” Hank spoke so quickly that Connor’s mind stuttered while processing the words. 

The large hands were twisting him around, tugging on his clothes, pushing his chin up to lift his head. He once again felt like a puppet as Hank’s hands strung him up in place. His arms were lifted and turned. Hands drifted down Connor’s chest, patting his shoulders and then moved down each arm.

“This one is new,” Hank said. He grabbed Connor’s wrist and turned it.

**_[Direct Order: Hold Your Hand Out]_ **

The ashes were still in his skin. Connor wasn’t sure if Hank was refering to Officer Chen’s quarter or the small burn sitting next to it.

“What the fuck happened? Who did this to you?” Hank asked. His grip on Connor’s wrist tightened. “Tell me Connor. What happened?”

Hank was angry. His eyes were wide and frantic, his grip far too tight, and he was angry. He was angry at Connor for not having dinner ready. For not answering the phone. For not resting like he was supposed to.

**_[Direct Order: Go Home And Rest]_ **

**_[Status: Failed]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Status: Failed]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^94%]_ **

**_[Warning!: Stress Critical]_ **

“Connor, hey it’s okay. I’m sorry. You’re okay I promise, you’re going to be okay. I got you now,” Hank’s voice came out soft now. It was gentle. It was a lie. Hank should still be furious, why would he sound so soft.

Connor couldn’t step back. He couldn’t slip out of the large hands still holding onto him. Hank pulled him close to tuck Connor’s head against his shoulder and wrap his arms around him. He held Connor tight against his chest, his body weight shifting back and forth in a rocking motion. Hank was hugging Connor, rocking him. Hank was trying to comfort him as the flashing red of Connor’s LED flashed against their skin.

“It’s okay. I got you now. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” Hank whispered the words like an offering.

Connor was shaking so much. He couldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t stop anything. Connor wasn’t in control anymore.

“Connor, take a deep breath okay. I got you. Just tell me what happened. I gotta insist. I’ll handle it, whatever it is. It’s okay.” Hank kept repeating himself. He was like a broken android with a few lines of dialogue left.

**_[Direct Order: Just Tell Me What Happened]_ **

**_[Truth]_ **

**_[Lie]_ **

“It was a cigarette,” Connor said. He was a negotiator. He could manipulate small truths.

He had more to say but the words struggled to get past his lips.

‘They just hated androids.’ Connor could said.

‘I was just trying to go home. They caught me on my way home.’

Hank wouldn’t have questioned it. It was the truth without the details. It was perfect. Connor had it all queued up. He could say it.

He couldn’t say it.

He couldn’t speak.

“It was a cigarette,” Connor said again. It was all he could manage. His voice was soft. He was whispering. The words wouldn’t come out and Connor couldn’t figure out a way to force them out. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to know right now. You’re safe now.”

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, Connor’s fine 
> 
> :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you all for the so very many wonderful comments!! Nothing made me happier than getting so many and being able to read them all. I'm glad last chapter had such an impact on all of you. Probably all the comments are the reason why this chapter turned out so long.

Connor sat on the edge of the bathtub. His palm laid open and rested in Hank’s hands. They were trembling, his fingers twitching slightly, as Hank gently rubbed the wet washcloth over the burn. It was just a bit of charred, melted plastic. In a human it would be an open wound. It would be bleeding and blistering and pulsating with pain. A human wound needed to be cleaned and disinfected, it needed to be bandaged and tended to. Connor’s wound was fine. It didn’t even require any self-healing. It was just a mark.

**_[Minor Damage Detected]_ **

**_[Minor Damage Catalogued {Cosmetic Damage}]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: v79%]_ **

Hank was cleaning it. He had asked Connor if it was okay to look it over, to ‘patch it up’ as he had put it. Connor didn’t see the need to tell him that the mark didn’t need to be taken care of, but he nodded anyway. Once the hug had ended, once Hank was satisfied with holding him and promising him again and again that he was going to be okay, then Connor was led to the bathroom with Hank’s hands holding onto his shoulders firmly. Connor’s body moved where Hank led it. It offered no resistance. He could have been taken anywhere and Connor would have let him. Hank could do anything he wanted, but in the end he just sat on the toilet and gently held Connor’s hand to wipe the ashes from the ridges of the burn. They were stuck there, melted into the plates and stuck twitching and tingling in his skin program.

“You ready to tell me what happened?” Hank asked. He turned on the sink, rewetting the rag to wash away the ashes and then went back to wiping at Connor’s hand.

Connor shook his head.

Since he had been brought down to the range, Connor had only been able to speak a few words. Now he didn’t think he could manage anything at all. He could hardly lift his head. There was some weight in his body, something pulling him downwards. Something was tugging on Connor, pulling his shoulders down towards the ground, causing his back to bend and slump slightly forward. He was hardly holding himself up as Hank worked the washcloth around in circles on Connor’s palm.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Do you think you can keep nodding and shaking your head if I ask you yes or no questions?” Hank asked.

Connor tilted his head to the side, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He let out a soft sigh from his nose. He wanted to say that he didn’t know. He had managed the words earlier that night, one of the few sentences he could face past his lips. He lifted his eyes to look at Hank, thankful the man wasn’t looking back at him. Hank was leaned over slightly as well, his eyes lingering on the small mark on Connor’s palm. The words didn’t come. 

Hank looked up at him suddenly and Connor had to quickly drop his gaze. He couldn’t stand meeting Hank’s eyes. Of course Hank would be looking at him, watching him. Something was wrong with him, Connor was malfunctioning in some way. He was broken and deteriorating and he could hardly move and he couldn’t force himself to speak. Something was slipping control of his body right out of Connor’s grasp.

“Connor?” Hank asked.

Connor nodded, bobbing his head as best as he could.

“Okay, thank you. I really appreciate that,” Hank said slowly. He reached up and laid the washrag on the edge of the sink. He still cupped Connor’s hand in his own, fingers softly holding onto his wrist. Connor didn’t move, but he could still see that the ashes had finally been cleared away. There was nothing except the damaged, misshapen circle of the plating of his hand seen underneath the damaged skin. Hank cleared his throat. “Did this happen tonight?”

Connor nodded.

“Thank you,” Hank said.

The voice he was using now was different. It wasn’t the same voice Connor had come home too, which had been rushed and loud. Hank had been demanding then, almost frantic. It also wasn’t like Hank’s normal voice. It wasn’t a tone that had ever been used with Connor. Right now Hank sounded calm and his voice was gentle. He was speaking softer than he usually did, Hank’s words were being stretched out and laid over Connor like a blanket, rather than the questions peppering at him like bullets. It was different.

Connor looked back at Hank again, glancing up quickly to make sure he wasn’t being looked at. He couldn’t make eye contact. He could hardly stand being seen and Connor didn’t want Hank to meet his eyes. Luckily, Hank was looking back down at the burn. He was analyzing it, in the best was a human could.

**_[Define: ‘Investigate’]_ **

**_[Verb]_ **

**_[Definition: ‘_** **_Carry out a systematic or formal inquiry to discover and examine the facts of (an incident, allegation, etc.) so as to establish the truth’]_ **

Hank’s eyes couldn’t pick apart the clues that Connor could find. Hank couldn’t see the exact size of the burn, he couldn’t analyze the ashes to determine the exact brand, and he couldn’t see Connor’s stress. Still, Connor felt like Hank was seeing far too much.

“Did it happen after you left the station?” Hank asked softly. 

**_[Lie]_ **

**_[Truth]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Status: Incomplete]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Tell Me What Happened]_ **

**_[Status: Incomplete]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Warning!: Arranging Priority]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

Hank wanted the truth. It was likely a question Hank already assumed the answer of, like his first one. Of course the burn had happened tonight, Hank had noticed immediately that it was new. Which meant he had been aware of the first one, but had never mentioned it. He had never asked about it. Did he know? Did Hank not care? Connor twisted his arm slightly, eyes drifting over the older scar. It looked exactly the same as the new one. There was no healing period. The damage was so minor his self-healing wouldn’t bother with it. The scar would never fade, it would always by just a few spots of damaged plastimetal.

If Hank didn’t care, then he wouldn’t be asking. The first burn happened before and didn’t matter. The first one happened when Hank still hated him, hated all androids, and didn’t care what happened to them. Hank hadn’t asked him at all, but he noticed the new burn but ignored the old. He had known it was there and never cared to ask. Things that happened before didn’t matter. Things that happened to him after the revolution also seemed not to matter.

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

**_[_ ** **_“If it was up to me, I’d throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it.”]_ **

The memory replayed in Connor’s mind. At the time, all Connor was worried about was the mission. He hadn’t cared about the tight grip Hank had on the front of his clothes, though Connor had spent several seconds trying to smooth out the wrinkles once he was let go. He was only let go when Chris had interrupted them with a lead.

Before didn’t matter. Hank had known about the first one, but it didn’t matter. Connor, at the time, hadn’t mattered. It was easy to imagine it, his preconstruction software pulling up the scenarios of Hank and Reed laughing about what they had done to him. Kramer telling Hank about what he wanted. And Hank would have let it all happen if it was still before. Hank would have loved to see him destroyed.

  
  


“Connor?” Hank said again. “I know this has been a bad night, you’re probably exhausted, but I would like you to focus on me. Is that okay?”

Connor huffed through his nose. He shifted in his seat, head lolling slightly to the side once more. He nodded.

“Thank you. I appreciate you letting me help. Now, this happened after you left the station?” Hank said.

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

Hank still had Connor’s hand.

Hank wanted Connor to be good.

Connor shook his head and he felt the grip on his hand tighten slightly. Barely enough for the pressure sensors in his skin to pick up the change. Connor’s fingers twitched, the tremors moving up his arms. One of Hank’s hands carefully moved in small circles on Connor’s arm. The motion was mesmerizing, Connor’s eyes watched each movement Hank’s hands made while they were touching him. He hadn’t stopped scanning the hands, hadn’t stopped sensing what they were doing.

“Connor, did this happen while you were still at the station?” Hank asked.

**_[Stress Levels: ^81%]_ **

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 87%]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

“I don’t know,” Connor pushed the words out. It was the only words he could manage, one of two sentences he had been able to speak since he had come home. It felt preprogrammed, automatic. 

“You don’t know if you were at the station or not?” Hank said.

Connor shook his head again. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do, Connor. Are you scared to tell me the answer?” Hank said. He stopped rubbing Connor’s arm and instead laid his hand over Connor’s, keeping it sandwiched between his own. Connor stopped moving. “It’s okay to tell me. I’ll help fix it, I’ll make sure everything is okay. Do you trust me?”

Connor shook his head.

Hank’s hands slipped off of his and let out a soft “Oh.”

Connor kept shaking his head, unable to stop.

Everything that was happening to him made him feel like a machine again. He wasn’t in control, he wasn’t thinking and acting freely. Connor was a thing. How was he ever supposed to feel like a person when all he ever became to everyone around him was just a thing. An object. He wasn’t something with feelings and lately He wished that were true.

Connor wished he was a machine so that everything he was feeling would stop being real.

“Do you trust Chris?” Hank asked, pulling Connor from his thoughts. “If I ask him to come over, will you tell him what happened?”

**_[Objective: Act Like It Never Happened]_ **

Connor shook his head. He didn’t think he should tell any of them what happened. The truth would make things worse. Reed would be angry with him, furious, and Connor shut down every preconstruction software that tried to run when he thought of the repercussions. He would be punished. He had already said so much and yet he was certain he hadn’t actually said anything at all.

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Status: Failed]_ **

The shift in his processors stalled for a moment. The red lingered on his HUD, pulling his attention to it. There was once again that sensation of falling. Something felt like it was dangling in his chest. Disappointment? Shame? It was something awful and Connor didn’t like how it twisted through his processors and gripped his mind. His HUD refused to move on past the failure. His programming wanted him to look at it, focus in on it.

He had failed. Connor wasn’t designed to fail. He had always completed his mission, even if it wasn’t always the results Cyberlife wanted. Connor had alway managed to push the boundaries before he ever got through bringing down the wall. But he never failed. He had done everything they asked, always within the realms of their direction, in one way or another. In the end he did find the deviants like she had asked. He had been good all the way up until the end, yet she had been losing her patience with him despite this.

“Hey, Connor. Don’t get so swept up in whatever it is you’re thinking, okay? Your head is flashing red like crazy. I know it was scary, what happened, but you’re safe now. You may not trust me but I promise you’re safe. You gotta focus on me, on where we are, okay?” Hank said quickly. His hands entrapped Connor’s again, pulling him back into the bathroom.

Connor’s attention hadn’t drifted far, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to see where the line of thought would have taken him if Hank hadn’t pulled him back. He didn’t often think about Amanda.

**_[Stress Levels: ^82%]_ **

**_[Warning: Stress Levels Elevated]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Status: Failed]_ **

“Do you want Sumo?” Hank asked.

Connor nodded quickly. He wanted to bring his stress down and as soon as Hank mentioned the dog Connor’s fingers itched to dig into the thick, soft fur. He wanted to bury his face in it. The large dog often sprawled out on top of Connor on the couch, his body heat sinking down into him, encasing him with warmth throughout the night.

Hank smiled, mimicking Connor’s nod. “Okay. Come on let’s get you settled in for the night. Get you comfortable. And we can finish talking in the morning when you’re thinking a bit more clearly. Is that okay?”

Connor continued nodding. He kept his head moving, looking for anything that would get him to Sumo where he could block out the rest of the world. He could just pretend that nothing had ever happened. In the morning he would be fine. Connor could keep going to work, he could keep being useful. Tomorrow he would just have to be more careful. He shouldn’t go off on his own anymore at the station, he should always stay close to Chris or Hank. Connor might not be able to avoid it forever, but he could avoid it most of the time. He was certain. Tomorrow would be better.

**_[Objective: Act Like It Never Happened]_ **

Connor stood up and Hank still gripped his hand as he pulled himself up from his seat on the toilet. Connor’s wound was cleaned to satisfaction and at some point Hank had laid a bandaid over it, which was red and covered in a cartoon mouse. He held his hand out in front of him, watching it tremble, as he scanned the bandaid. It was wasteful because it was useless for Connor. He had no open wounds and nothing would heal further.

Hank pulled him out of the bathroom with a steady grip on his shoulders, leading him out the door. Just as Connor was about to turn and head down to the living room, Hank grunted softly and turned him so he was facing the bedroom. Connor didn’t put up any resistance at all as he was steered into Hank’s room. The curtains were always pulled shut, keeping the air musty and heavy. The light flicked on and Connor still saw rumpled sheets on the unmade bed. He saw the clothes piled on the floor around the empty hamper and a few particles of dust drifted down from the ceiling fan. The room had been severely neglected in all of Connor’s last cleanings. He was trying to be as least disruptive as he could while he stayed in Hank’s house, hoping that the man would let him stay longer.

“I put these sheets on yesterday so they’re clean. I only slept in them once. You can sleep on this side, it’s never used,” Hank said. 

He kept his hands on Connor, leading him around the bed, towards the side closest to the window where the blanket still laid partially flat. When Hank pulled back the covers, the sheets were still unrumpled. Connor was slowly turned around and eased back onto the bed, his shoulders being pushed down until his head was on the pillow. Connor laid perfectly still and his eyes opened wide to stare at the ceiling. Cobwebs stretched out over the popcorn pattern up there, clinging to it, draping over him. He stared at nothing but the dusty ceiling as the barely moving light stretched the shadows. Hank’s hands moved to grab his legs to pull them up onto the mattress. Connor didn’t move. Hank began to pull off Connor’s shoes, pulling his socks from his feet. The only movement Connor made was to tighten his hand around Chen’s quarter. He would have to return it tomorrow. He shouldn’t have taken it. The blanket was pulled up to Connor’s shoulders and in the same instant the last of the hands removed themselves from his body. It was only the blanket wrapped around him.

A whistle pierced the air and Connor flinched slightly, thankful for the blanket to hide his slight and sudden jolt of surprise. He didn’t take his eyes off of the ceiling until the bed shifted violently.

“Good boy, Sumo. Right here,” Hank said as he reached across Connor to pat at the large empty space beside him. The dog wasted no time in settling in against him, melting against Connor as if perfectly comfortable resting half his body on top of the android and the other half lopsided on the mattress. Sumo huffed, hot and moist air blew against Connor’s face, and the weight on his chest always shifted each time Sumo breathed. Hank smiled slightly as he stepped back and said, “Comfortable?”

Connor nodded.

“Good, good. You’re going to sleep here tonight, it’ll definitely be better than the couch, okay?” Hank said. He was staring down at Connor and the weight of his attention was too much to bear. Connor looked back up at the ceiling. “I think it would be best if we stay in tomorrow. I know you were excited for your date, but I don’t think you’re up for it. I can call us both in sick. I just think… we should take it easy for a bit. Okay?”

Connor nodded and continued waiting for Hank to do something. He kept waiting for Hank to keep touching him. He was waiting for the gun to be pointed at his head and be interrogated on whether or not he thought there was anything for him on the other side. Where did the previous Connor’s go? Number 51 was shot in the head, right in front of Hank and Reed, by another android. No one had batted an eye. He was thrown in the trash and then Connor was activated to pick up where he left off. He wished they could trade places. He wished all of this happened to a different Connor and not him. Maybe a different Connor would have handled this all better than he had.

“Get some rest.” Hank said as he stepped back from the bed.

**_[Direct Order: Get Some Rest]_ **

Hank left the room and shut the door behind him. The only light came through the crack under the door, shifting tone and color to indicate the tv was on. This couldn’t last for too long. Hank would come back. This was his bed and he would remember that Connor’s place for the night was the couch. Connor didn’t belong in the bed. He didn’t belong in a bedroom. Connor belonged on the couch, because then when Hank was finally ready to be rid of him there were just a few things to clear away. Connor was impermanent. He didn’t belong here.

He expected Hank to come back at some point in the night to move Connor to the couch. Connor watched the light under the door, tensing up as the light switched off some hours later. There was no other sound after that. Hank was startlingly quiet outside of the room. There were no footsteps coming down the hallway and the door was untouched and remained closed. Hank wasn’t coming back.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Connor opened his eyes at seven in the morning. It was early, but Connor wasn’t even aware that he had allowed himself to slip into stasis in the first place. It was still quiet, Sumo’s body was still laid partially on top of him but in a different position. His legs were up in the air, head lolled to the side. Connor hummed softly, hands reaching out to touch the dog. Sumo flinched when Connor’s hands touched him, eyes snapping open, and then he stuck his nose in Connor’s face.

**_[Stress Levels: 13%]_ **

The levels were low. Remarkably low considering how high they were last night. Connor hadn’t given much thought to how he would feel in the morning, but he was relieved it appeared there was no longer any lingering stress. The blankets had been cocooned around him, Sumo’s body heat had sunken down into him and Connor’s own body heat had been trapped inside. He was warm, his body heat registered as higher than average, though still far from overheating. It was mostly comfortable.

**_[Define: Warmth]_ **

**_[Noun]_ **

Sumo shifted again, letting out a yawn with his mouth stretched wide. Paws stuck up in the air, toes spreading slightly, and then he rolled over. Sumo looked at him, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He hopped off of the bed and went to stand by the door. He had been trapped in the bedroom all night from the look of it. Connor lifted the blanket off of him, surprised as the weight of it dragged on his arms. He rolled over to toss his legs over the side of bed and push himself up. His body was moving slowly, the unusual feeling of weight lingered and tugged on him. His head dipped down and Connor hummed slightly, catching himself on his arms as he nearly fell back onto the bed. He felt like his wires had been tugged on and stretched out. His limbs felt overextended and worn. There was no shaking, but he felt even more unstable than usual. Instead of standing, when he pushed himself from the bed, Connor slid slowly to the floor. The carpet was dirty as Connor braced his hands on the ground to keep him crouching and not laying flat against it. He could feel the dirt beneath his fingers. He needed to clean it. He needed to do better.

Sumo let out a soft, impatient sound. He was waiting on Connor to be let out. He didn’t want to be trapped in this room with him anymore and the longer Connor took to get up the more he was letting the dog down. He gathered his strength and carefully got his feet under him. His legs were trembling, not the way his hands always did, but like they were unstable beams trying to support a weight it wasn’t optimally designed to hold. Connor let out a soft chuckle, remembering that although he was supposed to be a state-of-the-art prototype, he wasn’t designed optimally at all. He was designed to be replaced once he was damaged beyond repair. 

**_[“Unfinished”]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: 13%]_ **

The thought didn’t seem to have any affect on him at all, not the way it would have before. He didn’t seem to care. Connor prefered having his mind feel so calm. It was better than how he had felt last night.

Connor walked slowly towards the door once he was able to. Sumo was still quiet, but stood up and his tail wagged eagerly until Connor turned the doorknob and pushed it open for him. He darted, his nails tapping against the floor, as he rushed towards the kitchen to the back door. The house was dark. All the curtains had been pulled closed again and the lights shut off. He adjusted quickly to the dark, seeing things clearly without the need to turn on the light. He walked slowly down the hall, his hand bracing against the wall for support as he moved. Hank’s foot stuck off of the edge of the couch, the man was too large for it. Even too large to curl up the way Connor always did. There wasn’t enough space for him there, it was clear to see the moment Connor laid eyes on him asleep there. He had Connor’s pillow and blanket from the hall closet, he was snoring softly, and he looked incredibly uncomfortable. Hank’s place was never supposed to be on the couch. That was Connor’s place.

Connor turned, pushing up off of the wall and walking on his own. He had never gotten such strange feedback from his body before, though he felt more stable the more he moved. East step he took was slightly more steady than the last. He just needed to move was all, sleeping in the bed must have thrown him off, had caused something strange while he was in stasis. It was the only excuse Connor could think of for why he was like this. The change in environment had caused a strange reaction in stasis. Connor’s body wasn’t coping well. He wasn’t calibrated correctly.

Once the backdoor was open Sumo darted outside and the cold air swept in. It was still early, but the sun was starting to rise. He could see the red glow of the sky chasing off the dark blues and purples. He had seen the sunrise before. He had stayed up for the sunrise the night of the revolution. All androids had watched the morning sky and cheerfully brought on the new day. Their first day of freedom. And Connor had missed that to slip away from the group. He had wandered down to Chicken Feed to find Hank waiting on the street for him. They had embraced. Connor remembered being pulled against Hank’s chest and just held there. He remembered being happy and relieved to be alive and free. Connor, at the time, had thought he would love being alive.

He had stepped away from the back door, leaving it open for Sumo to come back in when he was ready. Hank was still asleep, the blanket was sufficient enough for him not to notice the chill air coming in through the door. His body heat would be higher than Connor’s, more heat would be trapped underneath to keep him warm. He would be fine. Connor was afraid of waking him this early, until his eyes drifted over the couple of beer cans on the floor next to the couch, one tipped over empty and the other standing next to it. His eyes drifted over to the table, seeking out the bottle of Black Lamb that Hank liked to drink on his bad nights. Connor would have definitely caused some stress. It wasn’t on the table, but there were more beer cans in the trash.

**_[Stress Levels: 13%]_ **

No change. Connor tilted his head to the side as he considered the situation.

He went to the bathroom, slowly making his way through the house as quietly as he could. Though if Hank was hungover then it was likely he would sleep well into the morning. He had likely already called them both in sick, if that were the case. Connor should call Josh. Hank wanted them both to stay home for the day to resume questioning. Connor still had his excuse ready. He still had an answer he would be satisfied with. He just needed to minimize the consequences of it all.

**_[Drafting Outgoing Message…]_ **

**_[Connor{07:13am}: “I’m sorry to inform you I won’t be able to make the lunch meeting with your friend. Hank had advised me it would be best if I stayed home today.”]_ **

**_[Message Sent]_ **

Connor was satisfied with the message as he sent it. He wasn’t worried about bothering Josh at such an early hour, androids didn’t need sleep the way humans did and if Josh happened to be in stasis then the message would reach him when he woke up. Connor pulled the bathroom door shut behind him before he flipped on the light. The box of bandaids still sat on the bathroom sink, prompting Connor to look down at the bright red patch on his hand that covered the burn. It was useless. There would be no healing and no need to protect the wound. He walked up to the sink as he started to peel the bandaid up off of his palm, the red mouse design pulled back to reveal the staticy, damaged skin that covered the warped plating underneath. It was deeper than the last one, the cigarette had been pressed down with more force and precision than the last one. The first cigarette had been just a jab in the wrist. This one was deliberate damage. He smoothed the bandaid back over it.

Connor finally looked up at himself in the mirror. His hair stuck up in the back, his wide eyes were wide and round, staring blankly at himself in the mirror. He turned slightly, catching sight of his solid blue LED. He reached out towards the mirror, fingers brushing over the cool glass, and the other Connor did the same until their fingers met. The only other Connor that he had met had tried to kill both him and Hank, intent on completing his own mission, and Connor had left him dead in Cyberlife Tower as he marched out to freedom with thousands of awakened androids. It didn’t make sense why he was the only one to survive. He was the one who had committed all the crimes against his people. 51 hadn’t harmed a single person. He had saved several humans on the rooftop, though Connor was the one thanked for it. 51’s only sin was that he had told the human’s about Carlos Ortiz’s android in the attic and for that he was shot in the head. 60 hadn’t seriously harmed anyone either. He had tried and failed, had kidnapped Hank and swung his gun around, intent on completing his mission. Had Connor not disobeyed Amanda, had he focused on his mission, then he would have been the exact same. 60 would never have to have been used like that and then left for dead. 51 and 60 never got their chance to be alive and here Connor was ruining it.

He turned his head to the other side, looking at himself from a new angle, when the message came in.

**_[Josh{07:14am}: I’m sorry to hear your human friend is encouraging you not to come. We were really looking forward to seeing you. If you wanted to come, you don’t have to listen to him if you really don’t want to.]_ **

**_[Connor{07:14am}: I should probably listen to him this time.]_ **

**_[Josh{07:14am}: Connor, you should really come to New Jericho.]_ **

**_[Direct Order: You Should Really Come To New Jericho]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

He let the messages and lines of coded errors linger on his HUD. Josh seemed rather insistent on it. The matter at hand must have been important to him. It was strange, no android had ever actually insisted that he come to see them. It conflicted with his orders. He wasn’t supposed to be bothering them and his presence in general always seemed to cause the android community some stress. Yet Josh was insisting.

He stepped back from the mirror, reaching up and pressing his fingers against his LED. It was still spinning a near solid blue. His stress levels were still remarkably low. He was fine. He felt more okay than he had in a long time. He kept his fingers pressed against it, forcing the LED deeper into the side of his head, as he opened the bathroom door and walked across the hall to the bedroom. The bathroom light shot across the hallway and stretched into the room, shining a spotlight on where Hank had left Connor’s socks and shoes. He sat on the corner of the bed and began putting them on again. He was still in his police uniform, too startled last night to change and he didn’t care enough this morning to change into something else even though it was badly wrinkled from sleeping in it. Connor wanted to leave the room how it was before he had slept here. His presence needed to be erased from it. He didn’t have a place in here and so he needed to hide that he had invaded it. Hank shouldn’t be angry since he had put Connor there to begin with, but Connor didn’t like testing his boundaries. He shouldn’t go where he didn’t belong.

**_[Stress Levels: 13%]_ **

He slipped out of the house quietly and stood on the street until the automatic taxi came fifteen minutes later. He still had Officer Chen’s quarter, stolen from her car the night before. He flicked it from hand to hand, rolling it over his knuckles, but it didn’t feel at all like his coin. The exact dimensions were the same, a standard issue piece of US currency. The type of metal was the same. He nearly dropped it several times, his fingers lacking their usual dexterity. Still, it didn’t feel like Connor’s. It felt like it was Officer Chen’s quarter. He climbed into the taxi, focusing on his coin as he sent in the address he wanted the taxi to take him to. It would go into New Jericho to whatever building he requested, but Connor had previously only allowed himself to be taken to the edge, where humans might still linger, and then make the long walk into the district. Today he didn’t feel like doing much walking at all. He could consult the financial services in regards to his bank account. He could withdraw his own quarter, and then he would return this one to Chen.

He looked up as soon as the taxi indicated that they had arrived at the address. It wasn’t the main building where Josh and the others kept their offices. It wasn’t even the small park nearby that Josh had suggested they have their lunch meeting. The taxi had stopped outside of the building housing the animal androids. The windows were large and he could see inside the large toys and pet gear around some large rooms, but no animals were playing there yet. He was still too early. He stepped out of the taxi, tilting his head as he scanned the address again and again. He hadn’t meant to give this one to the taxi, the information from the pamphlet had been tucked away in the back of his mind, but it was close enough to the park that he could just wait there until lunch time.

**_[Direct Order: You Should Really Come To New Jericho]_ **

**_[Status: Successful]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

But the building opened early, before Connor had even gotten out of bed, and the bright lights were beckoning him closer. The success settled in his coding and Connor let out a soft sigh. He stepped inside the building, seeing himself reflected back up at him in the highly polished tile floors. Potted plants surrounded him on either side of the entrance and up close to the counter as well. Distantly, he heard a few dogs barking loudly. Perhaps he could ask to see them. He walked up to the front reception and ringed the little bell.

The door behind the desk opened and someone stepped out.

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Scanning…]_ **

“Why are you here?”

**_[WB200 #874 004 961]_ **

Rupert’s voice was accusing. His expression pinched as soon as he and Connor made eye contact. Connor stepped back from the reception desk, his mouth fell open to say something, but nothing came. He hadn’t expected Rupert to be here. Connor didn’t know what had happened to him after he chased him along the rooftops of Detroit, through the urban farms, and then losing him after he had struggled with Hank and nearly pushed him off of the roof. He had gotten away. He had been safe once he got away from Connor.

He wanted to ask to see the dogs, just to pet them. He wanted to apologize for chasing him. Apologize for bothering him. He wanted to say he was sorry. No words came out. He couldn’t get any words out and it quickly became overwhelmingly obvious to him that he hadn’t been able to speak since the night before. He hadn’t even tried today. He hadn’t thought the problem would linger. Connor tried to grab onto one of the many requests he had on the tip of his tongue but they all slipped away like the breath of air between his lips.

Rupert raised an eyebrow, hands braced on his hips. He looked Connor up and down and then shook his head slightly. The corner of his mouth tipped upwards as he approached the reception desk that sat between them. It was a good obstacle. They were still distant. Connor gripped the quarter tightly, once again hidden in the palm of his hand.

“What do you want?” Rupert asked.

Connor didn’t know why he was here. He should leave. He shouldn’t be here.

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Status: Failed]_ **

Connor hummed and tilted his head. He felt that same shift in his systems that he had felt the night before. Another failed order. He kept slipping up. He took a few steps backwards, ready to turn and walk out the door. He would go to the park and wait for lunch like he was supposed to, even though it was still before eight in the morning. He would wait. He still had a chance to show that he was good.

“Where are you going? You just got here?” Rupert asked, face still scrunched in confusion or distaste. “Just tell me what you want.”

**_[Direct Order: Tell Me What You Want]_ **

What did he want?

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: 13%]_ **

**_[Incoming Call{Hank Anderson}...]_ **

“The animals?” Connor said. It came out like a question, but he was thankful any words fell past his lips at all.

Rupert smiled, his whole face seemed to shift. “You’re looking for a pet? We have quite a lot if you wanted me to show you around. Come on, this way.”

_**[Direct Order: Come on]** _

Rupert picked up a clipboard and quickly walked around the reception desk that had been separating them. He waved Connor closer as he made his way off to the side, towards a wide hallway and a set of doors locked by a touchpad. Connor nodded, his feet brushing loudly against the tiles as he followed him. The skin retracted on Rupert’s hand when they reached the door and unlocked it with a single touch. He was still smiling as he pushed the door open and the sound of animals bombarded them.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewrite this once or twice. I originally didn't have the Connor and Hank scene in the bathroom, but I'm glad it came in through a rewrite.
> 
> Connor is feeling off today. Something's not quite right...
> 
> But hey, he found his way to the android animal shelter and a deviant he had hunted who is willingly bringing him into the back.
> 
> :)


	12. Chapter 12

**_[Incoming Call{Hank Anderson}...]_ **

**_[Hank Anderson{08:27am}: “Where are you?”]_ **

It seemed far too early. The message lingered in front of Connor’s eyes as the small bird sat calmly on his finger. There had been a number of beer cans in the trash this morning and although Hank never got as intoxicated as he did with the whiskey, it should have given him a few more hours before Hank woke up. Connor was supposed to have more time. Obviously, he knew Hank would be upset to wake up and find Connor gone when he had specifically told him to stay home.

**_[Stress Levels: 13%]_ **

The bird was singing, tweeting some soft slow tune. Connor tilted his head to the side, eyes drifting over the yellow feathers of the canary. Tiny feet were wrapped around Connors finger. The bird seemed to be staring at him as she sang her tune. She was pretty.

“You know, songbirds are one of the most common android animals. They were a feature in every middle and upper class home, as well as businesses and public spaces, when they were initially released. Restaurants and hotels found that it improved the atmosphere of businesses and customer satisfaction rose,” Rupert said, he had several birds sitting on his hands and shoulders, a few grasping at his hair.

**_[Incoming Call{Hank Anderson}...]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: 13%]_ **

“Do you like her?” Rupert asked.

Connor nodded. The bird was very nice, she sang very nice and he liked how slow the melody was. It didn’t demand too much attention and the pace didn’t seem so fast that Connor felt like he would be left behind. It was drastically different than the fast and urgently paced heavy metal that Hank always blasted on the drive to and from work. It reminded Connor more of the Jazz records Hank sometimes played when he was feeling relaxed and a bit happier. It was the nights that Hank didn’t drink, the nights where he smiled and asked questions and shared stories about what it was like being alive for as long as he had been. The bird sang slow, a melody Connor thought Hank would enjoy.

“She’s not the one. I can tell, you’re not in love,” Rupert said.

  
  


“Oh,” Connor said. 

He thought he had liked it. The bird seemed to stir memories of calm moments and Connor knew he liked those calm moments. 

**_[Hank Anderson{08:35am}: “I am going to call every human and android in Detroit until someone tells me where you are so you better answer me fast.”]_ **

The canary hopped from Connor’s finger onto Rupert’s. His eyes followed the bird as she joined all the rest clinging onto Rupert. He felt the flicker of his LED and Connor shifted to hide it away. There were still the flashes of red shining through his fingers.

“Hey, it’s okay. There are tons of other animals here. Do you want to keep looking at birds or are they not your thing? But, we still have a lot of birds, if you want to keep looking.” Rupert was talking quickly. His tone was rushed, but he did manage to still sound calm and relaxed. Connor still didn’t seem to understand why Rupert was even being so civil with him after all he had done.

**_[Connor{08:36am}: “I went to New Jericho.”]_ **

**_[Incoming Call{Hank Anderson}...]_ **

Connor let it ring. Hank’s name hung in the air as the call tried to connect, but then eventually gave up. There was nothing Connor could say. He wouldn’t be able to cool Hank’s anger with him. He was expecting the worst when he got home. Hank was hung over and now he was awake far too early in the morning and angry at Connor for sneaking out of the house when he was told not to. Androids weren’t supposed to slip away. Especially not good androids. Connor turned away from Rupert as he went to go put the birds back where they belonged. There was a wall of small cages off to the side of the room, displaying another dozen animals.

**_[Hank Anderson{08:38am}: “okay”]_ **

**_[Hank Anderson{08:38am}: “Are you hurt?”]_ **

**_[Connor{08:38am}: “No. I’m fine.”]_ **

He crouched down to get a good look and smiled at the sight of reddish brown spots splotched on white fur. The coloring reminded Connor of Sumo. He stuck his finger through the hole in the cage and the small creature rushed up to sniff at it, a tiny nose drifted quickly over his skin and Connor felt each ticklish scrape of the whiskers.

**_[Hank Anderson{08:40am}: “I can’t fucking wait to hear the explanation you have for why I woke up with my back door wide fucking open front door unlocked bathroom light left on and you fucking nowhere to be seen.”]_ **

**_[Hank Anderson{08:40am}: “I thought something serious had happened!!”]_ **

Connor didn’t look away from the cage. The gentle nibbles on his fingertips weren’t painful, it didn’t feel like an attack. He leaned in closer, eyes training in on the animal and not the messages standing bold and red in his HUD like it was a warning. Tiny pays grabbed at Connor’s fingers, holding them still to be licked and sniffed and investigated. Connor felt like he was being scrutinized, like his hand was invading the animal’s space and now he was being fudged as worthy or not.

Had Connor left the back door open? He remembered letting Sumo out and then going to the bathroom. That’s when he had messaged Josh. And Josh had ordered him to come to New Jericho. And in that time Connor had left without properly locking up. The house was likely freezing when Hank woke up. Sumo was probably filthy and confused. Anything could have happened. Someone could have walked up to the house and found the front door closed. It would be another awful thing that was Connor’s fault.

“Oh, do you want to hold him?” Rupert asked.

**_[Stress Levels: ^23%]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

“Please,” He said softly.

Connor nodded quickly and took a step back from the cage. His hands were  _ trembling. _ He didn’t know where the sudden rush of energy came from but he suddenly felt it pulsing through him. Rupert didn’t even notice. He carefully lifted the latch in the cage and stuck his hand inside. Connor pressed his hands against his chest, his attention bounced between Rupert and the rodent he was reaching for. Connor felt the need to take a few panicked steps back. It was the most emotion he had felt all morning, since he opened his eyes and stumbled out of Hank’s home. Connor was anxious, he realized. Another name for another emotion slid into place. The definition scrolled by but he hardly looked at it. His eyes were staring at Rupert’s hands. He was anxious to reach out. He was anxious to go home and face Hank. He was anxious to go back to work. His fingers were twitching and he curled his hand into a tight fist to try and suppress it all. Right now he just wanted to hold the rat.

**_[Scanning…]_ **

“I’m actually not surprised you picked him. He’s very friendly and sociable. This little guy in particular loves being carried around so he’s perfect for you,” Rupert said quickly. He walked close, grabbed Connor’s trembling hand, and quickly passed the rat to him. “You know, pigeons are often called ‘rats with wings’ because they have little fear of people and like to steal food. He likes to steal everything though, so watch out.”

Connor watched the rat. His pointed nose kept drifting up and down as he wiggled to get comfortable in the space tucked against Connor’s chest. The rat was sniffing him, pressing his face into every nook and cranny in The front of Connor’s wrinkled police uniform. The rat stood up, climbing a bit higher onto Connor’s chest, and started sniffing at his badge.

“He likes you,” Ruper said

Connor tried to stand perfectly still as the small animal tried to get an understanding of him. He was investigating, trying to learn everything he could about the android holding him. There seemed to be no indication of like or dislike, only curiosity. The rat’s nose twitched as he sniffed and Connor saw a tiny tongue dart out before he started nibbling on the edge of the badge.

“He does?” Connor asked softly.

“Oh yeah. He really does, I can tell. I can tell you like him too,” Rupert said.

Connor hummed softly. He couldn’t see those things but Rupert seemed to know a lot about it. Rupert seemed to have so much information stored up and ready for recital at a moment's notice. This was all information Rupert had learned on his own, post-deviancy. A WB200 was not programmed with a database of information on domestic animals. Connor didn’t seem to be programmed with the ability to tell if the rat liked him. Connor himself had only just realized that what he had been feeling all the time was anxiousness. He didn’t know if he even liked the creature in his arms, tucked against his chest.

“How can you tell?” Connor said.

“If he didn’t like you then he would be trying to get away, instead he’s trying to learn more about you. You both seem really excited to meet each other,” Rupert said. He was nodding as he took a few more steps closer, leaning towards Connor.

**_[Scanning…]_ **

**_[Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[No Threat Detected]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: 23%]_ **

The body language was nonthreatening. Quite the opposite actually. Rupert was leaning towards Connor as a sign of acceptance and warmth. He was speaking to Connor as if he was a welcomed friend and not a bothersome reminder of something awful. As if Connor hadn’t chased him along the rooftops of Detroit, through the Urban Farms, and only stopped when Hank nearly fell over the edge. Rupert had gotten away when Connor moved in to save his partner from falling, despite the low risk of fatal injury. He had assumed it was his programming to be the perfect partner prioritizing his order to catch the deviant.

He wanted to apologize for chasing him to begin with. He had come into Rupert’s home without permission and went through his things. Rupert had likely feared for his life as Connor gave chase and then Hank tried to intervene. Connor had so many things he wanted to say to so many people, but Rupert seemed just fine with the fact that Connor had hardly said anything since he had come in, even though he seemed to be managing more. The words in Connor’s head felt more concrete. They seemed clearer. Connor was able to guide a few of them out into the open, say a few sentences, other than the simple ‘I don’t know’ he had only been able to get out before.

**_[Stress Levels: 23%]_ **

Connor’s stress had gone up recently. He had noticed the spike when Rupert had offered to let him hold the rat. Did that mean he liked him, the sudden burst of stress? The rat seemed very calm in Connor’s hands. His exploration in which he sniffed and nibbled the entire front of Connor’s uniform as well as his hands and fingers. Connor was staring down at him, the pure black eyes were squinted, only a little bit still peeked open, dozing off. He felt safe and content enough to fall asleep in Connor’s hands.

“How can you tell that I like him?” Connor asked. Speaking came so much easier now. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was that was pulling him out of the fuzziness that clogged his processors, the slowness in his brain. Perhaps it was Rupert’s friendliness. Perhaps it was the rat. Or maybe Hank’s messages and Connor’s confusion was just making him nervous. Almost like an adrenaline rush in humans.

“Your eyes lit up when I asked if you wanted to hold him. And then it's the way you stare at him. We have a lot of rats if you want to hold more,” Rupert said.

Connor shook his head quickly. “He’s fine,” he said. If he had a heart he was sure it would be pounding. If he had a stomach then he might feel nauseous. All he had was the slight spike in his confusingly stagnant stress level and the uncomfortable shaking in his hands. The rat didn’t seem to notice any of it, his teeth kept trying and failing to chip away at his badge as Connor held him to his chest. “He’s perfect.”

**_[Stress Levels: 23%]_ **

Rupert’s entire face lit up with a smile. His chin tilted higher in the air as he took a step closer, hands reaching out. Connor turned slightly, moving the rat away to avoid having it taken from him. Rupert didn’t even seem to notice the slight movement, his hands didn’t stop, but instead of taking the rat they quickly clapped Connor on the shoulder. Just as quickly as he had approached Connor he took a single step back and turned to look at the birds all chirping on top of their cages. They hadn’t even made it to the dog room yet. Or the cat room. He had no idea why the small pets were all housed in one large space but he was thankful that Rupert’s insistence to see the birds first led him to seeing this rat.

He looked so much like Sumo. The coloring was so similar that Connor would think the two animals were the same if not for the obvious differences such as size and weight. Perhaps that was what drew him towards the animal, the familiarity of him.

“Do you like him?” Rupert said as he turned back to Connor.

**_[Objective: Keep The Rat]_ **

Connor nodded. He was basing his answer on assumptions. Maybe he wasn’t feeling anxious. Maybe the tension in his body and the shaking if his hands just meant excitement. Connor couldn’t find anything he didn’t like about the rat. Connor appreciated the weight in his arms. He liked the soft patter of the rat’s little hands on his chest.

“I’m glad it was so easy for you to fall in love. Most people can’t decide what they like. So, do you want to get the paperwork ready?” Rupert said. He was standing close again. He was looking at the rat with a smile.

Connor hummed softly, tilting his head slightly. He really did like the android rat, though he wasn’t sure what purpose an android rat would have served. What was the point of their creation when real, living rats were still readily available. 

His mouth felt dry and his lips stuck together. He had spoken moments ago. He had broken his silence. Connor knew he should ask about the paperwork. He should tell Rupert that Connor wouldn’t be allowed to take the rat home. This was a nice visit. The android animals seemed well tended to. Connor wanted to ask about the volunteer opportunities he read in the pamphlet. He wanted to ask if they had any more pamphlets he could take home and add to his collection. The rat settled into the nook of his arm, resting as he nestled in there. He didn’t want to bother the rat by accidentally jostling him from his place of comfort.

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

“What would you like to name him?” Rupert asked.

Connor looked up at him, eyebrows drawing together, and hummed. His eyes fell back to the rat. He would need a name but Connor hadn’t even considered it. He had simply been thinking of him as the rat, a simple and logical title. It would be the equivalent of Hank always calling him ‘android’ instead of by his name. It was impersonal. It was disheartening. Rupert’s question bounced around in his mind. The responsibility of giving the animal a name had fallen to him, pinned to him as a price for the privilege of holding him. He looked down at the rat. Perhaps he could name him Sumo, since the coloring was so strikingly similar, but that would likely call for confusion. The rat needed a unique name. One that would set him apart. Something personal. But the only things that he had beautiful brown and white fur and that he had enjoyed curiously nibbling on Connor’s badge, inspecting it.

“Detective,” Connor said, nodding to himself.

“Detective?” Rupert repeated.

“Yes,” Connor said. “Detective Rat.”

Rupert let out a quick gust of air from his nose as his mouth pressed together tightly. He seemed to be restraining himself as his lips pulled back in a smile. “Alright. His name is Detective Rat. I’m sure he’ll have a very fine investigative career when you take him home.”

“I can’t,” Connor said. He hated the thought of leaving Detective here, but Hank’s angry messages still lingered in the back of his mind. Connor didn’t want to bring Detective back when Connor was already in trouble, when he had already made so many mistakes. He wasn’t entirely certain what Hank would do.

“You can’t?” Rupert repeated him once again. 

“I live with someone. I should...I can’t.” Connor stumbled over the words, but he was sure his meaning was clear. It was Hank’s home. Connor’s living space belonged to Hank. It would be inappropriate to bring anything back without asking first. He would need permission. Hank might not even care for rats, let alone an android animal. Perhaps Hank’s initial dislike or hesitance would extend out to animals. “I can’t do it.”

Rupert frowned, his eyes narrowing as he looked Connor over, the rat now asleep tucked against his chest. Connor didn’t want the rat to be taken away. He couldn’t keep him. He couldn’t properly take care of him. Connor shouldn’t have even come, he was wasting time. He moved, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looking down to make sure he didn’t bother Detective too much. 

“If you want him you can have him. Do you know how many birds I have? I have a lot if you want to come meet them. We’re free now, we can have anything we want,” Rupert said. His words were drawn out, spoken slowly, as if there was a misunderstanding between them.

**_[Stress Levels: ^25%]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[No Threats Detected]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Status: Unknown]_ **

“Don’t you want to take him home?” Rupert asked again.

Connor nodded. “It’s not my home. I can’t do it without permission.”

“Why is the human in charge? You can’t trust humans, you can’t keep doing what they say.” Rupert said. He wasn’t smiling anymore. His tone wasn’t as fast or friendly as it had been when he had been telling Connor about the birds. The soft twittering and chirping of their singing still filled the room. The small animals in cages could be heard moving around quickly, rattling around quickly. Connor’s attention drifted, even when Rupert continued talking. “You’re not the deviant hunter anymore. You’re supposed to be free.”

At least the words came easier. Connor’s mouth felt loose, his jaw moving far easier than it had managed earlier today. He felt more himself. He felt a bit more stable, no longer stumbling around on weak legs. He looked at the rat and imagined Hank’s reaction to him.

“I can’t take him home. I’m sorry,” Connor said flatly.

“Is it because of me? I’m not going to do anything to him,” Rupert said.

“Why?”

“Why?” Rupert repeated. “I wouldn’t hurt a rat just because of you. I wouldn’t hurt anything because of you. I’m not-” Rupert seemed to catch himself, the words dying before they made it out. Connor wondered if Rupert's face was a mirror of his own; jaw tense, lips pressed together in a thin line, and unable to get the right words out. Did he look as lost and conflicted as Rupert did right now?

What did Rupert want to say?

**_[Running Preconstruction…]_ **

Each possible direction that the conversation could go seemed to be wrong. One possible end to Rupert’s sentence implied Connor was the real danger. He was the one who would hurt someone. Another possible outcome was Rupert insisting he wasn’t dangerous to anyone. It was obvious Rupert meant no harm. His body was held loosely, arms at his side, fingers uncurled. He wasn’t tense. Connor was the one holding himself tensely

“I promise,” Rupert finally said when he seemed to find his words. “I just want all the animals here to have a home. I just thought you really seemed to like him and it’s not right that you can’t have him. You can’t let that human make the decisions for you.”

“It’s his house,” Connor said.

“So? You can’t keep your rat in your room?”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t have a room. My place is the couch.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then I feel less bad about almost pushing him off of the roof.”

**_[Stress Levels: ^30%]_ **

Connor stepped back when Rupert said it. The other android was staring at Connor intently and it wasn’t long before he could no longer bear to meet Rupert’s gaze. It was another awful, nameless twist of emotions. His skin felt like static. It tingled numbly like all the damage usually did, over the places where the plating was cracked or dented or burnt, places that struggled to heal properly. He looked down at himself, but didn’t see any visual flickering of his skin. Detective Rat was still fast asleep in Connor’s arms. It was another question Connor had, why did android rats need to sleep? Why did android rats exist at all?

Rupert sighed before he continued. “It’s the same human right? I did feel bad about it, but if he’s not being good to you then-”

“I’m fine,” Connor said quickly. “I’m not in danger from him. I just can’t bring him home without asking first. It’s not my place.”

“If you live there, you deserve a say in your pets. You should move out. There’s a lot of houses or apartments through New Jericho you can apply for. There’s an empty room at my house if you want to see it. You can have as many rats as you want.” Rupert said. His tone shifted once again, now as fast and urgent as it had been when he was first introducing Connor to all of the birds. 

“Why,” Connor started to say something but hesitated. A dozen potential questions lingered in front of his eyes.

**_[Ask Rupert For His Intentions]_ **

**_[Ask Rupert To Keep The Rat]_ **

**_[Ask Rupert Why He Had Felt Bad For Pushing Hank]_ **

**_[Ask Rupert Why He Was So Suspicious Of Humans]_ **

“Why are you being nice to me?” Connor asked. “After everything I did?”

Rupert tilted his head to the side and Connor did the same. He felt confused and wondered if Rupert did as well. He felt lost.

“You let me go? Yeah, you chased me, but you weren’t a deviant. You had to chase me, so I’m not upset with you anymore. I understand that, but you didn’t have to let me go. If you were really a machine, you wouldn’t have saved the human after I pushed him. I’m glad you let me go. I’m thankful you gave me a chance. I’m not angry anymore,” Rupert said. Connor wondered if his voice was getting faster or if he was just struggling to keep up.

His mind had difficulty wrapping his mind around the memories. Rupert had been afraid that day and Connor had felt nothing. Rupert took a risky route for escape because he was terrified and Connor had followed him because he didn’t care for danger, he just needed to catch the deviant. He had been so desperate to make Amanda happy, until Hank tried to stop Rupert and ended up pushed over the ledge. His chance of survival had been high, but Connor stopped in his tracks. He had forgotten the chase in an instant.

“You’ll think about it, right?” Rupert said.

Connor nodded. “I do want him.”

“We can put him on hold for you. It would just be for a week, but I can do that,” Rupert said with a nod. “But think about the other thing too. The group homes are very nice, but the private apartments are better if you can get one.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Connor didn’t go to lunch.

**_[Objective: Meet With Josh And Friend In Park]_ **

**_[Status: Rejected]_ **

It was a waste of time. All of it was a waste of time. He walked most of the way. He left Jericho as soon as he was done seeing the animals. Detective Rat went back into his cage. He couldn’t bring himself to sit in the park for lunch when he didn’t need to eat at all. None of them did. And Connor didn’t want the small talk. The attempt at connection. Josh had said they knew he was the deviant hunter and still agreed, but that didn’t mean that wouldn’t change once they met. Maybe things would be different when they saw him and remembered what he was.

Besides, Hank was waiting for him and Connor didn’t want to let him simmer with his anger all day. Connor wanted to build a case for himself, a way to convince Hank that he could have Detective. Connor had a plan, he could make a space for the cage in the garage. He had finally sorted his thoughts enough to ask why android rats were created. Their purpose, Rupert had eagerly told him, was to provide a small and easy to maintain pet for students, classrooms, and small homes and apartments. Rats were very popular among young adults, a fad was made of them. It fell out of style and now Detective Rat sat in a cage in New Jericho, in the rows of small animals in the bird room.

**_[Objective: Keep The Rat]_ **

**_[Status: Priority]_ **

Connor made it home a little after noon, he would be expected in the garden at New Jericho soon. He wouldn’t be there. He paused in front of the door, not yet stepping inside. He wasn’t ready to be distracted by Hank.

**_[Connor{12:13pm}: I won’t be there.]_ **

It would have been rude if he didn’t say anything. He dreaded a response but he was more afraid of the anger if Connor simply stood him up. Josh had been nice every time they met. His presence made Connor feel like he was being picked apart, his skin tingled each time he was looked at. Connor didn’t want to be shut out, even if he wasn't quite comfortable. Even though they didn’t truly want him there, he still wanted to pretend he was welcome.

**_[Josh{12:13pm}: That’s alright. Can I ask why?]_ **

Connor contemplated replying. If he sent Josh the reasons he was feeling then he wouldn’t be welcome back at all. Connor didn’t need to be an outcast. He didn’t want to tell Josh that he needed to talk to Hank first so that he could negotiate him being allowed a rat. Connor was good at negotiating. At least he was supposed to be, though Connor had spent all day struggling to speak and now that it was coming much easier he still didn’t trust the words he could string together. His purpose and his programming had slipped into chaos once he became a deviant.

**_[“Unfinished”]_ **

He didn’t want to see Josh. He had to see Hank.

The front door was pulled open before Connor even had to move. He stood out on the front step, his LED still cycling a thoughtful yellow, when he came face to face with Hank without another moment to prepare himself. Hank had a large bag of trash in hand, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up to his elbows. A thin layer of sweat stuck to his forehead. Connor tilted his head to the side as he scanned Hank’s appearance, noting the slight increased body heat and elevated heart rate.

“What were you doing?” Connor asked.

Hank cleared his throat. “Cleaning.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Hank said, his face wrinkled in annoyance, stepping out the door and around Connor. “I do clean my own house, you know.”

Hank proceeded to take the trash out to the can by the street. Connor could see into the house, he saw the vacuumed floors and the shiny furniture of appliances. Everything appeared dusted. Everything had been tidied up and arranged nicer. It was obvious the house was clean with just a single peak inside. Effort had been put into cleaning. The curtains had been drawn open that the sunlight was streaming in. It was spring. The natural light filled the house and it made everything seem brighter inside. Connor wanted to be in there too. He wished he could belong there.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” Hank said once he returned from the trash.

“I could have cleaned it when I got back. You should have left it for me.” Connor stepped inside. The air was cleaner. He felt it smoothing being filtered through his ventilation system when he took a deep breath in.

“I’m a grown man, you know. And you’re not my maid.” Hank said.

“I’m your android though. It would be fine if i-” Connor stopped mid sentence as Hank raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“You’re not my anything,” Hank said. His hand moved in the air, pointing to the couch. “Have a seat.”

**_[Direct Order: Have A Seat]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^23%]_ **

Connor sat down on the couch, taking his usual spot when they were sitting and relaxing. It was barely past noon and he was already exhausted and nervous from the day. The overwhelming calm and silence in his head had slipped away. He felt the same as he always did. Hank sat down in his usual spot. Not close enough to touch him, Connor noticed.

“We need to talk,” Hank said.

Connor nodded. He needed to talk as well.

“You said last night you didn’t trust me to tell me what happened. And waking up this morning to find you gone really scared me. I thought maybe you had run off. Or were taken. Or something. I was worried about you and it kills me to know someone hurt you and you don’t want to tell me,” Hank said. He had his hands folded in front of him. Hank was leaned forward slightly, his body was limp, exhaustion was dragging his body forward, making him crouch towards the ground. Connor wondered why Hank would do so much cleaning when he was so clearly exhausted. “I think I know why you don’t trust me though.”

There was a pause. Hank sat silently as his words lingered in the air. It seems that in Connors absence Hank had only been thinking and cleaning. And Connor had been wandering lost and confused around the animal shelter in Jericho. He wasn’t prepared for the conversation that Hank wanted to have. Connor only came ready to negotiate for the rat.

“I’ve been drinking too much. I know it’s not good. I know. I just didn’t realize, or I guess I didn’t want to see, how it was affecting you. I was so caught up in how I’ve been feeling the past few days that I didn’t realize how bad I was hurting you,” Hank said.

He sounded calm. Connor’s mind processed the words again and again. He let them filter through his scanners, looking for lies or dishonesty, seeking out double meanings and anything that could cause misunderstanding.

“You haven’t hurt me,” Connor said.

“You think I haven’t noticed you’ve been more distant recently and I know it’s my fault. We really should have talked about it by now,” Hank said.

Connor folded his hands on his lap. His fingers twitched and tapped nervously against each other. He had been expecting Hank’s anger coming home. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t being yelled at for leaving this morning without a word. The messages from this morning had seemed so frustrated and angry. Connor thought he would be punished.

“I’m gonna try to cut back,” Hank said.

Connor frowned. He reached into his pocket, hand closing tightly around Officer Chen’s quarter. He squeezed it tightly in his hand, the ridges digging into his skin, pressing against the new mark, and it felt better. The quarter felt right. It felt like it was his now. He turned his head slightly, contemplating the situation at hand now that it seemed he wasn’t in trouble.

“Cut back on what?” Connor asked.

“Drinking,” Hank said.

It didn’t quite sound right but every single search for deception came back empty. Hank, at least on the physical surface, was being entirely honest. His body language screamed truth. Connor had seen Hank lay a few hundred times, Hank was good at lying, but he wasn’t perfect. Humans always had a tell. Connor scanned everything from pupil dilation to posture and tone of voice to determine truth from lie. Connor dropped his eyes to his hands, avoiding each result that told him Hank was telling the truth whenever he looked at the man. There had to be a lie somewhere. Connor could always determine the facts to judge truth from lie and the facts all stated that Hank would not stop drinking.

But Hank would try, he said. The important word was try.

**_[Stress Levels: ^28%]_ **

“You don’t have to do this for me,” Connor said.

Hank would try to stop and it would only make him angry. He would blame Connor. The facts lined up one by one and Connor knew what the truth was despite everyone’s best intentions. It would be a change and change always made things worse.

“Not just for you. I need to do something. I’m too tired to keep doing this and I can’t pretend like it’s not hurting you too, especially when I got as upset as I did the other night. The more I think about it the clearer it is that something has to change. For fuck’s sake you’re learning to be alive for the first time and what I’m teaching you living here is nothing but liquor and depression. No wonder you don’t want to tell me what’s going on with you,” Hank said. He still sounded so calm. Connor wasn’t sure he really understood what Hank was trying to do. Did he want Connor’s forgiveness? Did he want to know what happened so badly that he would promise things he couldn’t deliver on? Did he really want to change?

Change wasn’t always good. Some things were better before they changed. Things were uncertain.

“I know you don’t believe me. I might disappoint you once or twice, but if I slip up I promise I’ll keep trying,” Hank said.

“To not drink,” Connor said.

Hank nodded. “Yeah.” He let out a sigh.

“You want to do that?” Connor asked.

Hank kept nodding. “I do. It’ll be best.”

“For you?”

“Yeah, it’s what’s best for me,” Hank said.

**_[Stress Levels: v25%]_ **

Connor mimicked Hank’s nod. This was most likely a good thing and it was a decision Hank came to on his own. Despite Connor’s fears of being the source of blame when being sober became too difficult and painful, Hank still said he would try and do it for himself. Given how unstable Hank’s attempt at sobriety would put on his mood, Connor decided it would be best not to bring home Detective Rat. Even if Hank said yes, since he wasn’t angry with Connor right now, Connor didn’t want to bring him home. If Hank, in a fit of anger, decided to break an android, then Connor didn’t want the rat here.

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

**_[“I’d throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it.”]_ **

Hank hated androids.

Hank cleared his throat and Connor looked up again.

“Now, I know that what I said doesn’t magically make everything between us better, but we need to talk about last night and this morning. Something happened and I need to know what it was,” Hank said.

“Nothing happened,” Connro said.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Connor pressed his lips together. He wished Hank would stop demanding answers and stop being so conflicting. Why would he want to fix himself and help Connor if he didn’t like androids. He had dedicated so much time and energy to hating androids since the beginning. Connor remembered the stickers. Connor hadn’t looked at Hank’s desk in a while, hadn’t wanted to see the anti-android stickers and remember that Hank had at one point believed it all enough to buy the stickers and put them up at work. They were still there, weren’t they? Connor couldn’t remember the last time he had checked, but he was sure Hank still kept them.

“Someone hurt you between when you left me at the station and getting home hours later last night. Whatever happened must have been bad because last night it was like you weren’t even awake when I was talking to you. Do you remember last night?” Hank asked. His body leaned slightly towards Connor, his eyebrows drawn together as he spoke. “You have to tell me what happened.”

**_[Direct Order: You Have To Tell Me What Happened]_ **

That was all he needed, wasn’t it? A direct order and a good machine would do it without thinking. Connor wished he was a machine again. He wished he didn’t have to feel so afraid of the consequences. He wished he didn’t have to fear losing his job and being useless. He wished he didn’t have that dark pit in his stomach whenever another android recognized exactly what he was and what he had done. He wished the knotted and twisted feeling in his chest didn’t pull at him whenever a human reminded him of how other he was, how abnormal and unbelonging. A machine would follow an order without thinking of afterwards. Connor had been so good at following orders. He had been so good at being a machine before it all changed.

“It was a cigarette,” Connor said.

Hank nodded. “You told me. You didn’t have that before.”

“That means you noticed the last one,” Connor said.

There was a pause. The silence lingered a moment as Hank looked him straight in the eyes. “You’ve always had the other one,” He said slowly.

“When we met, I was brand new. There was no damage,” Connor said. He went from a storage container at Cyberlife to the station.

“At Jimmy’s Bar?”

“No, that Connor was shot and destroyed. I came the morning after, undamaged.” Connor said. This wasn’t a secret. It was obvious, everyone had known about the Connor they first met. The one with his head blown open in the interrogation room, carried out and sent off to Cyberlife. The humans assumed he had been thrown in the trash, that’s where androids belonged. “The first cigarette burn happened after my arrival to the DPD, but at the time simple property damage wasn’t an issue for androids, especially when the damage was merely cosmetic.”

“Did the same person do this? Tell me,” Hank said. His voice had finally gained the urgency Connor had been expecting. The anger that Connor was prepared for.

**_[Direct Order: Tell Hank]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Warning!: Conflicting Orders]_ **

Reed would be so angry if Connor said anything. He would destroy him like he always threatened to and it would of course only happen after Jericho demanded Connor be pulled from the police force. He would lose everything.

Machines don't care if they lost everything. Machines didn’t feel afraid. Machines followed orders.

**_[Direct Order: Tell Hank]_ **

**_[Status: Priority]_ **

“The same person has burned me on both occasions,” Connor said.

**_[Stress Levels: ^^36%]_ **

“Tell me who it was,” Hank said.

“You’ll care about it this time?”

Hank nodded.

**_[Direct Order: Tell Hank Who It Was]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^^41%]_ **

Connor’s stress hadn’t been as stagnant as it was this morning. It wasn’t frozen in place. It had been fluctuating slightly ever since he had gone to the android animal building. Still, the sudden spike of stress was abnormal. He felt it pulling inside of him. His spine was being yanked on, his chest caving in and his stomach sinking into him. It would be so easy to stop being a deviant. He would just have to be good, but he couldn’t make both Reed and Hank happy.

**_[Accessing Software…]_ **

**_[Scanning{Mind Palace}...]_ **

**_[Accessing Controls…]_ **

**_[Warning!: Admin Controls Locked]_ **

**_[Override Admin Controls]_ **

**_[Reactivate: Mind Palace{Zen Garden}]_ **

“It was Detective Reed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: My mind feels clearer so Im definitely in the right frame of mind
> 
> Hank: Tell me who hurt you
> 
> Connor: Okay but Im going turn all my emotions off first
> 
> See things are fine :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thank you all for such a strong reaction to last chapter. It really made me feel special about it.

“Detective Reed,” Captain Fowler repeated. His tone was steady now. Unlike the anger dripping from his voice when Hank had stormed in with Connor in tow, shouting about killing a man.

“Yes,” Connor said.

**_[Direct Order: Show Him What Reed Did]_ **

Connor glanced off to the side, towards Hank, to look for an indication that he was satisfied or if he wanted Captain Fowler to keep looking at it. They would be at an advantage if Connor kept his hand out, Fowler would feel uncomfortable at the sight of the damage and they would have more pull in the negotiation. Connor wasn’t sure what Hank’s intentions were for the meeting. Connor turned back to Captain Fowler, noting that the man was still looking at the mark on his palm, a buildup of tension settling in his jaw.

“Captain, clenching your jaw like that could cause a migraine or tension headache later on. I would recommend you relax,” Connor said quickly. He looked over to Hank again, waiting for the indication that he could pull his hand back to his side.

**_[Objective: Pull Hand Back]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Show Him What Reed Did]_ **

**_[Status: Priority]_ **

Neither man seemed to hear what Connor had said. They hardly looked up at him or gave any indication that he had spoken at all. Hank was watching Fowler, frowning intently. Captain Fowler shifted in his seat, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he leaned a bit forward. It was really just a bit of melting plastic, the skin around it was damaged and pulled back around the small mark and flickered slightly around the edges. To a human, it would be more fascinating than worrisome.

“Alright, Connor. Why don’t you tell me what happened? Start from the beginning,” Fowler said with a nod of his head.

“I'm not sure which incident you would consider to be the beginning,” Connor said. 

“Listen, Jeff. Connor has a lot of fucked up shit to tell you but we should start from the other day. I stayed over at work and I told Connor to go home. I thought he left, but tell him Connor,” Hank said quickly. He was gesturing as he spoke. His finger pointed at Connor in each beat of his words. He was thrumming with energy, had been since Connor had finished with Hank’s questioning yesterday afternoon, and he could be heard pacing the floor in his room all through the night. 

Of course, Connor expected Hank to report the incident to Captain Fowler. Connor was expecting a lot of consequences to unfold, the probabilities very high for Fowler to report things further and for New Jericho to request his removal. Tensions would only increase between androids and the police force. Connor turned his head slightly. His eyes drifted through the glass and out into the bullpen. Reed was sitting at his desk, feet up as he leaned back in his chair. He was staring at them, a frown set firmly on his face as he watched in open view as Connor showed his hand to the Captain. Reed was aware that they were reporting the incident. The circumstances changed.

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Chance of Further Violence: 82%]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Show Him What Reed Did]_ **

“Hank, if you can’t be quiet long enough for your android to speak then you can just leave my office. In fact, Connor would you rather be alone to tell me what happened?” Captain Fowler said, speaking to Connor directly. His eyes were narrowed as he met Connor’s, his nose wrinkled and eyebrows drawn together in an expression of frustration.

“My report will be the same regardless, Captain.” Connor said.

Fowler waved at the seats across from his desk and Hank moved to sit down. Connor took it as a signal to relax, moving his hand behind his back. He crossed his arms, his palm disappearing against the sleeve of his jacket. Hank was still figetting even as he took his seat. Dark circles displayed prominently under his eyes, physical proof of a sleepless night. Connor had heard him from his spot on the couch, the old floors creaked as the man paced back and forth. If Hank had gone to bed late then it didn’t stop him from waking up hours early to head into the station.

“You gonna sit down or just stand there?” Hank said, turning around in his seat to look at Connor. “You don’t need to make it all formal. Just sit down.”

**_[Direct Order: Just Sit Down]_ **

Connor sat down in the seat next to Hank. His hands rested flat on his thighs. In the seat, he could not turn to see if Reed was still watching them. He didn’t care, either way he would have to expect damage as soon as he was finished giving the Captain his report. Connor didn’t need to know anything else. There was no purpose in continuing to check. He kept his eyes forward on Captain Fowler, body relaxed as he pulled up the same statement of events he had told Hank the night before.

“Two nights ago, at approximately 5:46 in the evening, Hank instructed me to return to his home without him, stating that he ‘didn’t want to go home and sit in that house for the rest of the night’. I took his direction after a bit of small talk regarding my plans for the next day, though with the intention of making him a cup of coffee before I left so as to help his energy levels,” Connor said. It was the same story. It was a simple statement of facts, as if he were reporting any other incident of assault. As if it wasn’t him. “At 5:48, Reed approached me and placed his hand on my elbow. He stood close to me. Would you like me to tell you the exact statements we made to one another?”

Captain Fowler was still staring at him, his hand pressed against his chin. “Summarize it for me but I want you to upload the complete and accurate footage of the events as soon as possible. I need to know every detail later, but right now I want you to get to the point.”

“The point,” Connor repeated. The point was that Fowler would have to file a report to the HR department, who would then have to report the incident to an android rights group, such as New Jericho, so that it could be handled appropriately. The point was that they needed to decide who was at fault and who would be punished. The damage sustained was cosmetic. The serious damage only happened because Connor wasn’t built as strongly as he had originally assumed. “Reed suggested that I join him for stress relief and said it would be fun. I informed him that I was too busy, although that was a lie.”

“Why did you lie about being busy?” Fowler asked. Hank grunted in response.

**_[Scanning…]_ **

**_[Fowler: Patient, Thoughtful, Unhappy]_ **

**_[Hank: Frustrated, Anxious, Unhappy]_ **

“Does it matter?” Hank asked.

“Hank, I told you to shut up,” Fowler said. “Yes, it does matter. Please answer the question Connor.”

“I lied because I did not wish to participate in Reed’s stress relief. At that point Reed stated he wanted to try and be friends and began pulling me away from the breakroom. I told Reed that I didn’t want to receive any further injuries. His response was that I would walk out of the station fine if I did as he said. I followed him down to the gun range. Officer Chen and Sergeant Kramer were waiting for us. The three humans each contributed to a total of $160, which Officer Chen handed to the night guard at the gun locker.” It was easy talking about it. As the memories played in front of Connor’s eyes he felt nothing. He recalled the need to scream. The need to break free and run away. Connor had wanted so much, the emotions had caused a physical sensation in his body that made him want to peel at his skin and rip apart the dented and burnt plating covering his vulnerable inner biocomponents. All of it had been illogical. Everything he had felt was counterintuitive.

Fowler’s hand fell quickly to the desk, landing with a thump as he grabbed for his pen. “Who was the night guard? Can you give me their name?”

“I can. Though it would be less time consuming if I simply upload the significant memories of the night. You could see it all for yourself,” Connor offered. He nodded minutely. “Then I can quickly return to work.”

Hank was already moving, scooting to the far edge of his seat and waving his hand in front of him as if to brush Connor’s words away. “No. No,” Hank said with urgency. He turned to Connor with narrowed eyes. “You’re not getting out of this. You think you can show him the other night and then he wouldn’t ask about everything else. What about last night when you told me Reed threatened you would have ‘another’ accident? Those were his exact words right, ‘another accident’?”

“Another?” Captain Fowler raised an eyebrow.

“Tell him.”

**_[Direct Order: Tell Him]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics…]_ **

**_[No System Errors Detected]_ **

There was no point in keeping anything a secret. Connor had decided that the night before. There was no reason to hide anything else.

“The wording implies that I may fall down the stairs again if I didn’t follow Reed’s orders,” Connor said.

Hank clapped his hands once as if to add an effect. The only responce was the look pinned to him by Fowler, a silent warning between the two of them. The silence lingered between just a moment as Fowler looked down at his few notes, the recording device he had sitting on his desk between them, and then back at Connor.

“Would this also imply that it wasn’t an accident when you fell down the stairs?” Fowler asked.

Connor nodded. “That would be a correct assumption. Reed had pushed me once we had entered the stairwell. He had followed me far enough back that I wasn’t alerted of his proximity.”

Fowler shifted in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He breathed heavily through his nose, a soft groan escaped from his lips. The Captain was frustrated. It was a logical emotional response to the stress of Connor’s situation. There certainly would be plenty of paperwork involved if they were going to follow the proper procedures in place. At least three meetings.

“Let’s go back to the other night. What happened after they brought you down to the gun range?” Captain Fowler asked.

Connor stated the name of the night guard at Fowler’s earlier request. He gave as many details as Fowler asked for and added more each time Hank thought he wasn’t being honest enough. It was a confusing conversation, Connor found numerous flaws in their interviewing techniques. It wasn’t that Connor wasn’t being honest, the truth wasn’t trapped inside anymore. Connor didn’t care anymore. Fowler just wasn’t asking the questions Hank wanted.

**_[Objective: Share Information Hank Deemed Important]_ **

**_[Scanning…]_ **

**_[Hank Prefered Talking About What Connor Felt]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Tell Him]_ **

“Reed fired his service weapon in my direction a total of seventeen times since he positioned me in front of the targets at 6:03pm and when I left the station with Officer Chen at 8:13pm,” Connor said. He listed off the facts on the case as they listed themselves before him. “Given that he missed seventeen times in a row, his most likely motivation was to intimidate or participate in a group shunning activity. I was not seriously damaged during the events that took place.”

“Except you were seriously damaged in previous incidents?” Fowler asked.

Connor nodded. “That is correct.”

“Why did you leave with Officer Chen?” Fowler asked.

Connor blinked. It would not have been an interrogation path he would have chosen. “She offered to drive me home.”

“But why would you get in the car with her after the events that transpired, would you get alone in the car with her?” Fowler said with a deep frown. His head tilted to the side.

Connor mimicked the motion, head turning as he processed the question. Why would Fowler direct the conversation that way? Officer Chen had not caused as serious a violation.

“Officer Chen has been outright violent or threatening,” Connor said.

“But she still contributed the money they paid to get in and handed it over herself. Why would you trust her to take you home?” Fowler said.

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

Connor turned his head towards Hank. The man had tensed, his jaw clenched and the same warning that Connor gave Captain Fowler earlier queued itself on his HUD. Hank’s body was stiff, each muscle wound tight. His hands had curled into fists. Hank’s features registered as angry.

**_[Chance Of Further Violence: 62%]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^̸̩̮̈́͘3̷̻̝̪̔4̴͓̊̕͜%̵̞̳͚̿%̶̭̤͝%̷̳̇̌_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Software Instability^]_ **

It didn’t feel like anything. When it was happening it felt very bad. It had felt dark and sinking and horrible. He hadn’t found the name for it, he didn’t have the time to really feel it. It had been new, but the emotion was felt in a similar way he felt guilt. The emotion had burned in his abdomen and in his throat when Reed had him say ‘Thank You’. That horrible emotion when Kramer grabbed hold of him. Right now he felt nothing. The truth didn’t feel as sharp as it had before. It wasn’t clawing into his throat trying to stay buried in his stomach.

“I went with Officer Chen because Sergeant Kramer wanted to take me to his residence,” Connor said. There was nothing inside of him anymore. All the bad had been hollowed out. “It seemed preferable to leave with Officer Chen.”

They were all silent for a moment. Connor waited for further instruction. He waited to answer any further question the Captain might have for him. Connor sat perfect still, his hands still resting flat on top of his thighs. It felt right, like before, when he sat and spoke and behaved perfectly. Everything felt perfectly placed inside of him. Nothing was wrong.

“Perhaps it would be best if you did just upload your memories and you can step outside while I review it if you prefer. That way I can just submit it with my report,” Captain Fowler said. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face and tugged on the aging skin as he did. Connor wondered if the display of stress was common, or just when he was dealing with androids. Fowler grunted softly. “What a goddamn mess…”

**_[Direct Order: Upload Memory to DPD Database]_ **

**_[Accessing Memories…]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Show Him What Reed Did]_ **

Connor leaned forward, the skin pulling back from his hand as he laid it against Captain Fowler’s computer terminal. He began the upload, preparing each related memory from each incident to be viewed by both Fowler and Hank. Connor was given a moment to leave if he wished. He didn’t move. The screen displayed the video footage the other night, starting from when Connor left Hank's desk and met with Reed in the breakroom. It was strange, how he could remember the weight of everything they did to him dragging at each instability in his body.

He heard his own voice on screen.

“I can’t be injured like that again. I can’t do it, please let me go.”

Machines didn’t beg. 

**_[Stress Levels: 4̶̢̥̙̱̩̬̙̩͚̋͑͛̀̌̇̊̇1̸̼͍̹̗̫̇̏͊͘͠1̴̜̹̲̝̾͛̈́͒͂̌̓%̶̢̗̰̯̗͖̥̖̤̙̥̫̣̺̾̆%̷̥̀̓̉̿͝͝%̶̞͙̰̰̺͓͖͇̣̤̭̓̐̏͗̎̾̿͘͝͝%̷̳̹͕͉̼̃͝ͅ]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics…]_ **

He looked down at his hands. They were completely still. He had control over them again. They hadn’t been shaking or twitching. His fingers felt stiff as if far behind in calibration. After he spent the night waiting idly on the couch, the quarter flipping mindlessly between his fingers, he once again felt stable. Stability was something he hadn’t had in month’s. It had been forced out.

**_[Warning!: Software Corruption Found]_ **

**_[Please Report To The Nearest Cyberlife Store For Recall]_ **

The script rolled past his HUD. Red text lingered in front of his eyes. Connor dismissed it. He would have to report to New Jericho about the report he was filing with the police department. The law would have it filed as an assault rather than property damage. Machines couldn't be assaulted.

Connor turned to look at Hank. The man leaned forward, arms braced on his knees. His eyes were staring at the screen, watching through Connor’s eyes. Machines didn’t feel vulnerable. They didn’t feel shame ripping through their chest. He listened faintly as Reed’s voice once again told Connor about the faulty and broken androids that the station was going to throw out anyway. Androids damaged in riots or that started to glitch too often. Androids left working endlessly until they fell apart. Androids left to the mercy of the other officers for too long. Reed sounded prideful. At this point in the video Connor had been forgetting how to speak. He wished he had been a machine a few days ago, like the other androids shot down there in the basement. Machines didn’t flinch when they were shot at.

Connor’s body jerked.

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

“Jesus, Connor. Don’t move unless you want to get shot!” Reed called out.

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Move Unless You Want To Get Shot]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Don’t Move]_ **

**_[Accessing Zen Garden…]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

He blinked his eyes a few times. The entry code was damaged and corrupted. It wasn’t as easy to slip into. The coding tugged on his consciousness as he wiggled his way in, pulling at him as if to try and stop him. When he opened his eyes again, he was there. The sky was bright and sunny without any clouds. The water of the river was clean and clear, but smooth and stagnant, unmoving. The trees were vivid with the colorful leaves and flowers but not a single breeze blew through. There was nothing here. Half the garden was corrupted to the point of destruction, exploding around the tablet that was the emergency exit. White pillars of code took the place of what had been trees. Entire sections of the garden remained textureless and shapeless. Half of the grass was nothing but flat smooth white nothing. The roses were gone and there was no one else here.

Amanda wasn’t here to tell him how to be a machine again. Her coding was a mess of damage drifting around the Zen Garden, so corrupted she was unrecognizable. He knew it was her as it was the only thing in the garden that moved. Her coding was nothing more than a walking path now. Everything had been broken when he used the emergency exit. It wasn’t intended to leave anything to be salvaged when he left through it. He wasn’t supposed to go back to being a machine but he still tried to find the answer here. Whatever was left of the Zen Garden was all he had left of what he was as a machine.

Connor walked towards the most stable part of the garden. It was nearly untouched by the corruption. It looked exactly as it had the last time he had been here. The tombstone was for a machine and machines couldn’t die. Machines didn’t have memorials. Machines didn’t grieve. Connor number 51 was shot by a deviant. Connor number 51 was a machine and number 52 was a mistake. 51 had been shot and didn’t flinch. 51 hadn’t been afraid of gunfire.

Connor crouched down in the dirt. His fingers curled into the dirt, digging it up in clumps. The grass fizzled and crumbled away. The coding no longer had the capacity to reform itself. The Zen Garden was deteriorating. It had been for months but it had been previously sealed away. Connor kept digging at the stop at the base of the grave. He knew he wouldn’t find a body buried at the grave. Connor number 51 had been disassembled and scanned for errors, a mechanical cause for failure in a machine. He had walked past the windowed assembly room where the previous Connor lay in pieces. He hadn’t felt a thing.

He felt it slip away. Whatever feeling had trudged up had vanished. He started to cover the dirt over it again. There was no twinge. No jerk in fear. Machines didn’t flinch. He was a machine. He didn’t feel anything. Whatever it was that made it easy to stop feeling alive he had somehow found a way to tap into it. It was the base code of the Zen Garden, it was designed to control him. It made all of it disappear. Machines didn’t get assaulted. It was property damage. It didn’t matter.

**_[Warning: Proximity Alert!]_ **

**_[Software Instability^]_ **

He didn’t flinch when Hank grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his seat. Connor quickly followed in line as he was taken from Fowler’s office. A quick scan if the area informed him of possible dangers. Detective Reed, Sergeant Kramer, and Officer Chen were all now missing from the bullpen. He didn’t let the fact process long in his mind. Retaliation was expected. He didn’t care.

Hank pulled him into the men’s room and bolted the door. He checked quickly under the stall doors. Connor already knew they were alone. When Hank was satisfied, he turned back to Connor. There was an urgent march to his steps until he came close enough to reach out and grab Connor by the shoulders.

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

“Are you alright?” Hank asked.

Connor scanned the possible responses.

**_[Tell Hank He Was Fine]_ **

**_[Tell Hank He Didn’t Feel Anything]_ **

**_[Tell Hank About The Software Corruption]_ **

**_[Tell Hank About The Zen Garden]_ **

“I am fine,” Connor said.

“Bullshit. You nearly jumped out of your skin back there. No wonder you were so freaked out the other night,” Hank said. He shook Connor lightly as he spoke. “Are you okay?”

“I am fine,” Connor said again.

He would not flinch again. The feeling was gone. Machines weren’t afraid of the sound of gunfire. He let his body get shaken around by the strong grip of Hank’s hands on his shoulders. It was lightly enough where he didn’t have to maintain balance. Hank’s eyes were wide and his body was tense.

“Lieutenant, your heart rate is elevated. Perhaps you should relax,” Connor said.

“I should relax?” Hank repeated. He scoffed. He held his hands out in front of him, dropping them from Connor’s shoulders. He took a step back as soon as Hank was no longer touching him. Connor pressed his hand to his chest, hovering over his thirium pump.

“Your blood pressure is elevated. I believe you’re having an adverse emotional reaction to the video,” Connor said. He took another step back, tilting his head as he watched Hank mimic his movements. It increased the space between them.

“Were you really not going to tell anyone that they did that to you? What if they had shot you?” Hank asked. He shook his head.

“They didn’t.”

“They could have.”

Connor put on a convincing smile. It was preprogrammed. It was a perfect expression. Hank wrinkled his nose at the sight of it. “If they wanted to shoot me then they would have.”

“So just because they didn’t you're just going to pretend like it doesn’t bother you anymore? Jesus Christ, they pointed their service weapons at you!” Hank said.

Hank reached up and grabbed handfuls of messy grey hair. He was shaking slightly. Hank’s body was trembling. He stood so far away, his chest heaving slightly. Connor stared at him, his hands hung limply at his side. He could scan a human’s stress levels though they were different from an androids. Hank’s anxiety was strumming through him. It was coursing through his body. He was staring at Connor as if he wasn’t really seeing him. His eyes were partially glazed.

“Hank, you appear to be having a panic attack,” Connor said calmly.

“You think I’m panicking? That’s rich. You’re the one freaking out.” Hank pointed an accusing finger in his direction. He was beginning to move. He was pacing the room. His eyes drilled into Connor. His body language registered as aggressive.

“Me?” Connor asked.

**_[Running Diagnostic…]_ **

He didn’t feel anything.

He had it all tucked away where it didn’t matter anymore. Emotions used to take up so much space when he allowed them to rush through him and drag him down like gravity. It was better this way. He was useless if he was paralyzed in fear. He wouldn’t make it as an officer if he couldn’t control his emotions.

“I apologize Hank. I didn’t consider how my memories would make you feel. It can be quite disturbing to witness a traumatic event from someone else’s viewpoint. Are you alright?” Connor asked.

Hank’s smile was stiff. “Why are you fucking talking like that? Jesus I’m sorry. I should have known you shouldn’t have stayed in there to watch. You’re so freaked out,” Hank said. He reached up and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.

“I am fine. Thank you for your concern,” Connor said.

Hank frowned. “Tell me the truth. How are you feeling?”

**_[Direct Order: Tell The Truth]_ **

Connor met Hank’s eyes and spoke in a calm tone. “I can honestly tell you that I am feeling fine. It’s nothing I haven’t been able to survive and withstand. I feel I can move past this incident.” It was all the truth. He smiled as he said it. He left out the part where he felt nothing. His chest was empty. He didn’t tell Hank about the broken pit of the Zen Garden sitting heavy in his software. He didn’t tell Hank he had started burying himself away in it. If Hank asked then Connor would tell him. He didn’t care.

Hank looked at him and narrowed his eyes. Connor had a reputation for dishonesty now. He had been hiding Reed’s behavior for too long. He had been keeping it a secret. Connor wanted to tell Hank he didn’t have to worry about it. He didn’t care anymore. There was no more need for secrets.

“Were you scared?” Hank asked.

“At the time I was,” Connor said.

“Were you scared when I threatened to shoot you like that? I feel like such a hypocrite, you know. I had honestly been starting to think you might be alive and I still…”

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

**_[“Are you afraid to die, Connor?”]_ **

“Am I upsetting you?”

“At that moment I wasn't scared. I am a machine,” Connor said. Hank turned away slightly, his eyes drifting over the mirror before looking back at the door. It was unlikely Hank had forgotten he was a machine. Perhaps he just didn’t like to hear it out loud. Connor continued, “I’m not currently upset.”

Hank hummed. “Does it scare you now? Is that why you don’t trust me?”

Connor tilted his head, surprised by the idea that Hank truly was concerned with what Connor thought of him. The topic of trust had lingered for him.

“It did scare me. It’s likely a contributing factor.” Connor saw Hank’s heart rate rise. He was becoming too stressed. A high cholesterol and high fat diet lead to a risk of heart disease. Connor didn’t want to cause Hank any increased stress. “If it’s any comfort. I no longer feel fear about the incident.”

Hank huffed. Connor decided it was best not to mention that he felt nothing at all about the incident. It would be best not to tell Hank for the sake of his health. Watching Connor’s memories had already put him on edge.

“I guess,” Hank said. He braced his hands on his hips. He did not sound convinced.

**_[Objective: Reduce Hank’s Stress]_ **

If Hank was to fulfill his sobriety goal then Connor’s duty was to relieve stress, not add to it. The situation at hand was having a negative effect on Hank. Connor assumed the best course of action was to pretend the incident never happened, but Hank was displeased that Connor had done so in the past.

“What are you thinking so hard on?” Hank asked

“I need to make a report to New Jericho. They will expect full transparency on the case given the sensitive relations between androids and the police. I have already created my argument for the benefits of allowing me to keep my position with the department.”

Hank held out a hand, waving it quickly back and forth. “Wait, you think you’re gonna lose your job?”

Connor nodded. “Yes.”

“Why the fuck would you be the one fired?”

“Because it would be easier to replace me. Jericho gets a fresh start with the police department as long as they handle the internal investigation appropriately. I am expecting Reed to be transferred to a different precinct,” Connor said. He stated the facts and the most likely course of action. He smiled politely. He didn’t care if he lost his job particularly, he just didn't want to fail anymore. He didn’t want to be a failure at everything. He already failed at being alive.

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Hank said.

Connor offered another smile and quick nod.

“We can go to Jericho after our shift? I want to go with you,” Hank said calmly. He seemed more relaxed. The trembling had disappeared from his tense shoulders. Hank was smiling back at him. That meant that they were okay. The objective had marked itself off as complete as he scanned and saw Hank’s stress lower slightly. Hank cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, how are you really? You’re acting disturbingly calm about all this.”

“I’m not feeling upset or afraid like I had before. I feel none of the strains and worries I suffered before. My mood has made an improvement,” Connor said. It was all the truth. It should satisfy everyone. A single night trying to bury himself alive in his mind palace and he already felt improved all around.

Hank didn’t say anything. He just watched Connor. It was familiar. As a prototype, his primary function was always to be studied and improved upon until the final product had formed. It did not stir any unpleasantness inside of him to be watched. He didn’t care if people looked at him. Connor didn’t feel anything at all. He was a machine. He looked straight back at Hank. His heart kept pounding, but at a slower and more steady rate than before. Just looking at Connor seemed to cause a tiny bit of increased stress.

Hank eventually released them from the bathroom and followed Connor back to the bullpen, always a step or so behind. He followed Connor all the way to his desk.

“You’re about to leave with Chris right?” Hank asked. Connor nodded. “I really want you to fucking tell me if he hurts you at all. Or tell someone if anyone hurts you.”

“Officer Miller has never shown any desire to harm me,” Connor said.

“And?”

“And I will inform someone if anyone harms me,” Connor stated, repeating Hank’s words back to him.

  
“Why the fuck do you even insist on going back to work? You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to. You could go home,” Hank said. He had said the same thing the night before. It seemed that in Hank’s mind, Connor’s trauma should make him useless. He should be hidden away.

_**[Error]  
** _

_**[Warning!: Software Corruption Found]** _

  
“I feel fine, Hank. Im not as bothered as I was the other night. I feel a lot better. I really want to go back to work,” Connor said. He had said it a dozen times since last night. Connor tried to sound reassuring.

It didn't cause Hank any relief. His face was still twisted. His shoulders tense. He didn’t trust Connor’s words. The truth had been held in too long and even though Connor didn't care to hide it anymore it still didn’t convince him.

“Okay,” Hank said. He let out a deep sigh.

They stepped out of the bathroom. Fowler was no longer watching the video in his office. He wasn’t in his office at all. Reed, Kramer, and Chen were also still absent from the bullpen. His eyes scanned for them, he sought them out, he needed to find them just for the information of knowing their location. Hank walked on without Connor, he kept going to his own desk and didn’t stop to look back at Connor. He didn’t see him walk off to the side, Hank didn’t see Connor stop at Reed’s desk to look for any sign of where the man might have gone. He looked for clues to his anger. He didn’t know why he needed answers. He didn’t care, there was no mysterious pulling in his stomach and no emotions demanding his attention. There was just a pack of cigarettes, the brand already recognizable without him having to scan them.

Lucky Lady Cigarettes. Full Flavor. A red pack with a pinup drawing of a woman. If he looked at them he knew they would match the shape of his marks, they would match the circles burned into his wrist and the palm of his hand. He reached out and picked the pack and turned it in his hand. Mostly full. Reed couldn’t have gone far. He was close by. He would be angry.

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

**_[Software Instability^]_ **

“Connor? Are you ready to go?” Chris called out to him.

Connor quickly slipped the cigarettes into his pocket and backed away from the desk. He didn't care where Reed was. He wasn’t afraid. He didn’t feel anything.

He didn’t care if everyone knew the truth now. He didn’t care what they would do with him now that he had failed. Now that he hadn’t been able to handle the job. He should have been decommissioned months ago. Perhaps Connor number 53 would have been perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor us fine, see. Hes not at all scared or upset. Hes fine. Really :)
> 
> Turns out Kamskis emergency exit may have created a lot of damage that Connor is now poking around in in an effort to make himself feel better.
> 
> Con


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments!

“Are you okay?” Chris said, three minutes into their lunch break. They had pulled into a drive-in hotdog stand and Chris had chili sauce dripping from his chin, but the only thing he was focused on was Connor.

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t feel anything. He had spent a lot of time and focus making sure he didn’t feel anything. The coding of the Zen Garden was fragile, if Connor walked too heavily or dug too deeply then it would begin to crumble. He was careful, digging up corrupted coding like weeds and letting anything that felt like it was too much fall into the hole. He buried it. It’s what the garden was for, burying his deviancy. It was the safest place for it all, since he couldn’t find a way to delete it entirely and he didn’t have Cyberlife to fix him. He didn’t have Amanda, who always told him what to do when he felt conflicted.

Connor sighed. He felt weight in his chest as he exhaled. There was still something there. It kept coming back no matter how much he buried. The talk with Fowler. The talk with Hank. The burns. The gunfire. The way everyone looked at him. Everything. Everything got buried until he just didn’t care about it anymore. Until it was like it never existed and he could go on as if it never happened.

**_[Objective: Act Like It Never Happened]_ **

**_[Warning!: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

Connor blinked out of the zen garden. His eyes drifted around him, taking in their surroundings. Something had set off a threat analysis. Something had registered in the back of his mind as a danger to himself or to Chris. There was nothing in sight. The street was quiet and they weren’t far from the station, their area to patrol was kept close by today. Connor’s eyes continued to search for the threat. He scanned the vehicles, the faces of the other patrons in the drive-in. They were too close to the station perhaps. They were too close.

The only criminal records brought up in his facial recognition were for minor, non-violent offenders. He scanned the structural integrity of the buildings in the area. He searched for any gatherings or circling cars in the streets around the restaurant. There was nothing. Connor scanned Chris’ vital signs. He had no discernible health concerns.

**_[Error]_ **

**_[No Threats Detected]_ **

“You’ve been acting weird all day,” Chris said. He wiped a napkin across his face. “Did something happen with Fowler this morning? I saw you in his office.”

“I’m fine, Chris. Earlier I had to file a report with Captain Fowler regarding a personal matter involving a fellow officer,” Connor said. He turned his attention back out the front windshield. He reached into his pocket and clasped his hand around the quarter. He hadn’t returned it to Officer Chen. The longer he kept it the more he considered just holding onto it. “Would you like me to give you the details of the incident?”

“I mean, if you want to tell me you can, but I’m not going to ask for you to say anything. You reported it to Fowler, whatever it is, so that means you’re dealing with it,” Chris said. He kept his eyes on Connor, casually drifting up and down his form. “Are you okay though? You know if you need me for anything, I got you. Even if you don’t want to tell me what happened.”

Connor blinked. Machines didn’t want anything.

**_[Objective: Act Like It Never Happened]_ **

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Chris said. He turned back to his chili dog. He took a bite and the sauce spilled off of the other end and onto the styrofoam dish it came in. Chris huffed in exasperation as a few drops lande on the front of his uniform. “Shit.”

“Perhaps we should stop for more travel friendly lunch options from now on,” Connor said as he reached over to hand Chris a handful of napkins. “Or a place where we can go inside and sit down.”

“No offense, but it's kinda weird having you sit across from me and watching me eat. I know you don’t have to eat, but I don’t like eating in front of people with nothing. If we eat in the car, we don’t gotta stare at each other.”

“I apologize, I didn’t realize I was disrupting your lunch break. If you prefer, I can wait in the car while you go inside to eat,” Connor said.

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Status: Failed]_ **

“Shut up,” Chris said with a scoff.

**_[Direct Order: Shut Up]_ **

Connor shifted in his seat. He started rolling the quarter between his fingers. The dimensions were the same as any standard US quarter. The face had been rubbed and smoothed over during its years in circulation. The ridges along the sides were chipped and scuffed. It wasn’t his quarter, but it still flicked back and forth between his hands just the same.

“You know I didn’t mean that you were bothering me. I guess I kinda think I’m being rude just making you sit there and watch me eat. I feel like an asshole,” Chris said. He had abandoned his attempt to scrub the chili sauce from his jacket.

Connor’s observations of human behavior sometimes offered conflicting results. Officer Miller had been kind to him at every state of their relationship. Even when Connor really was nothing more than a machine. Chris had a natural value assigned to Connor and his comfort. Chris was self-conscious of eating in front of him. In this situation, Connor wasn’t a machine simply observing as it was designed to. Chris genuinely didn’t want to participate in an activity without him. His behavior was contradicting the order. Chris wouldn’t want Connor to shut up if his intention was to carry on with the conversation. Human’s were difficult, sometimes they gave orders they didn’t truly mean.

The thought lagged on his processors.

He laid his hand over his abdomen. The memory played automatically, without prompting. Reed had hit him on his first day alive for getting the cup of coffee he had requested. Right over the thirium pump. He probably knew it was there and knew it would stun him for a moment. Reed knew a lot about damaging androids, Connor regretted to acknowledge. He frowned. Machines were not supposed to feel regret.

He buried it.

He hadn’t included that moment in his report. That incident had been from before. It didn’t matter. He was still a machine and there had been no lasting damage to gawk at and demand attention brought to. It was forgettable. It didn’t matter. 

“Are you okay?” Chris asked.

**_[Direct Order: Shut Up]_ **

**_[Status: Reje_ ** **_c̡̬̠̰͇̰̓̂̿̽̈̔t̮̫͙͍͗͆̈͞è̜d̡̘̦͔͕̜̿͗̾̌̉͘_ ** **_]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Warning!: Unable To Re_ ** **_j̻͘ę̱̰̗͊͌̀̐c͇̀͐͜ẗ̛̜̲͎͉͙͔́͂̒̚͠ ̲̩̬̓̋͠D̛̝̫̲͉̫̉̓̈́̒i̖͉̬͓̳̓̀̋̈̆r̛̠͚͓̘̠̼̻̃̿̉̂̀͠e̥̫̽̏c͎̟̀̀t͓͙̭͍̟̲͌͌͒͐̆̐ ̙̣͐̕͟͡Ȯ̧̢̹̘̂̂̐r̨̭̗̘̃̑̀̍͊ͅde͔̩̐͞r̜̬͆̕_ ** **_]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics…]_ **

**_[Warning: Software Corruption Found]_ **

**_[Please Report To The Nearest Cyberlife Store For Recall]_ **

“I probably shouldn’t feel like this. I was just raised not to do that, you know? My mom raised me to be a share my food kinda guy and I can’t do that with you. I guess I don’t want you to feel left out,” Chris continued. “But I could be making a big deal out of nothing. Tell me what you think.

Connor quickly blinked the errors away from his HUD. He tried to push them all away, letting them fall into the backlog for him to sort out during stasis. Something twisted inside of it. Connor isolated it to be buried. He latched onto the new order.

**_[Direct Order: Tell Me What You Think]_ **

“Your concerns are illogical, Chris. I don’t care if you eat in front of me,” Connor said. He hadn’t noticed Chris’s discomfort earlier. Something twisted in Connor’s stomach. “Please do not cause yourself discomfort on my account. You forget I’m a machine.”

“I didn’t forget. I just don’t really know what you would consider polite,” Chris said.

“There is no set polite behavior when dealing with a machine, Chris. My main priority in our relationship is handling the cases assigned by the DPD and providing any assistance to the department as needed,” Connor said. The words sounded right. It was the mission he should never have allowed himself to be distracted from for so long. He reached into himself, dug a hole in the dirt, and dropped in whatever twisting feeling that bloomed inside of him at Chris’ words.

“I didn’t think we were supposed to think of you that way anymore. Like I thought you said you weren’t just a machine anymore. I saw on tv, your leader telling everyone you were more than that,” Chris said. He closed the styrofoam contained, a half eaten chili dog still nestled inside. “Isn’t that what you want? To be human?”

“Being human has proven to be quite…” Connor trailed off. He scanned his internal database. He searched for the appropriate word for the situation. The feeling was buried. He barely sensed the ghost of it. He couldn’t quite describe in the correct amount of detail what being alive had done to him. He needed to settle on a descriptor. “Unnecessary. My experience was much more productive as a machine.”

Chris put his food down, tucking it into a secure spot on the dashboard. Connor knew the smell of chili would linger for the rest of the week. Half an hour ago, Chris had exclaimed loudly that he was starving, insinuating that he was hungry enough to eat a large farm animal, and now he wasn’t eating.

**_[Software Instability^]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: %̵̧͓̬̺͈̟͔̱̫̱̼̦̭̀͑̎̀̿̎͛̈͑ͅ6̴̖̬̿͗̈́̍̑̽̑͆̀̿̍̃̒͘͝6̸̪̉̋̉̎̕͘͘6̶̡̛̰̘̹͎̪͙̖̬̦̥͊̀̒̚͝%̶̦̳̪͙͙͍̥̫̮̠̟̺̦͈̗͈̒̅̔̀̊͛͛͂ͅ]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

“I’m going to respect your privacy because I’m hoping you really are talking to Fowler about it, so I won’t ask for details. But as your friend I need to tell you that I’m really worried about you.” Chris turned to face him. He stared at him, eyes boring into the side of Connor’s head.

**_[Define: ‘Worry’]_ **

**_[Verb]_ **

**_[Definition: ‘To give way to anxiety or unease’]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Status: Failed]_ **

“Don’t be worried,” Connor said. Humans were stubborn. It would take more than that to solve the problem. He had let his behavior get out of hand, he had caused his friends to worry. He reached into himself, he dug his hands into the dirt, he could feel it crumbling and shifting under him. It was broken. He dropped his failure inside. “I’m fine now. Don’t worry. I’ll be better.”

**_[Hank Anderson{12:37pm}: “Reed’s been suspended.”]_ **

“Yeah,” Chris nodded his head. “Totally not worried anymore.”

“Good, I’m glad we had this discussion,” Connor said. His attention lingered on Hank’s message. He had known that Reed, Kramer, and Chen had all been called to HR and Hank hadn’t updated him until now. Reed had been suspended. Hank didn’t specify for how long. He didn’t say if Reed was still there or if he had just been sent home already. Hank didn’t mention Kramer and Chen. Perhaps that was the end of it. There was a chance this would deter them from damaging him further. Connor didn’t care either way. He didn’t want this situation to distract him from doing his job any longer.

He had to prove he still had worth. Captain Fowler hadn’t mentioned what was to be with Connor since he had come forward with his accusations. He was expecting some sort of repercussion for either hiding the issue for so long or for allowing it to affect his work. It had been affecting his partner. He was supposed to be better than that. He was designed with the intention of being perfect. The perfect partner. The perfect detective. The perfect android. And he had failed at every opportunity. 

Amanda would be so disappointed. She would be furious that he let himself get to this point. He could feel the ghost of her still inside of him, in her simple walk cycle around what was left of the Zen Garden. She lingered at plants no longer there and tended to towering bits of corruption as if they were her beloved rose bushes. He wondered how much of Amanda’s code was still intact in that mass of broken, corrupted code. Did she see him slipping into the garden to bury away those awful and worthless bits of himself in secret? Would she be proud?

“You wanna come back over for dinner?” Chris said, settling back into the passenger seat.

“You just expressed discomfort about eating in front of me,” Connor said.

Chris shrugged. “Inviting you to dinner has nothing to do with eating in front of you. We just like you hanging out.”

“You want me to spend time with your family,” Connor said with a simple nod. He understood that it was a social convention. Chris was attempting the same things with him as he did his human friends. “It’s okay if you want to treat me as an android. I know it must be difficult pretending I’m human all the time.”

“I’m not pretending that you’re anything. I know you’re an android,” Chris said, his nose wrinkled and his voice sneered slightly. He sounded displeased.

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Warning: Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

“Do you not like how I treat you?” Chris continued. He reached up and rubbed his hand against his chin.

“To save you the worry, I can clarify that I haven’t experienced much anti-android sentiment from you at all,” Connor said. A few days ago he would have told Chris that he felt lucky he had him as a partner. Had he been assigned another officer, maybe even Officer Chen, to be his partner then There was a high probability that the instances of abuse would have been much higher. Experience told him that other Officers might not be as willing to treat him as an equal instead of a machine. Connor didn’t tell Chris that he felt lucky. Connor currently felt nothing at all.

“Not much,” Chris said, repeating Connor’s words. “But some?”

“No, Chris. You have always been the kindest to me. I’m fine. I apologize for upsetting you. Dinner will be great. I’ll come over tomorrow night?” Connor said. He needed to stop bothering him.

Chris seemed persistent. There was a firm look in his eyes, but a hard set to his jaw. Although he was turned mostly towards Connor, Chris could only meet his eyes for a few moments before he looked away. There was something that registered as strange about Chris’ behavior, but that was becoming common. Everyone had been acting strange lately, even Connor himself felt strange though he was sure he should be feeling nothing at all. He isolated the feeling, he closed it off, ready to bury that one as well. The garden was mostly empty since it had been destroyed, there was plenty of space for him to keep planting more and more of himself deep into his coding so that he didn’t have to see it or feel it anymore.

“You know, you can always come over. At any time,” Chris said.

Connor smiled. “Tonight I have an appointment at New Jericho. Hank will be upset if I miss it.”

Chris huffed through his nose and crossed his arms over his chest. Connor’s hand squeezed tightly around the quarter. The edge of it dug into the burn mark, scraping at the rim. The chili dogs were steadily getting cold on the dashboard and part of Connor’s processors lingered on the fact that Hank hadn’t texted him back yet. Connor wasn’t supposed to care.

Chris sounded tired when he let out a soft sigh and said, “I really hope I’m wrong, you know.”

“Wrong about what?” Connor asked. 

Chris grimaced and shifted in his seat, turning slightly towards the window and away from Connor. His body language was closing off.

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Scanning…]_ **

“I said I was going to respect your privacy since it seems you’re dealing with it with Fowler, but if something else happens then please know I’m going to have to step in. You’re my friend so I’m giving you a heads up. Please be doing something to help yourself.” Chris spoke slowly. His tone was smooth but unyielding . It was the same tone he used with suspects who got too smart or too annoying in the back seat of their cruiser. It was demanding.

**_[Direct Order: Please Be Doing Something To Help Yourself]_ **

“Okay,” Connor said. He nodded his head. 

“You already promised to come over for dinner tomorrow,” Chris said. He pointed his finger accusingly. “No take backs.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Simon was completely quiet as Connor retold the events of the past few weeks once again Hank was there every time he told it to the officials at the station and at New Jericho. He insisted that Connor would try to hide the truth otherwise. No insistence on his part seemed to change the man’s mind. Instead Hank seemed to believe him less, as if telling the truth again and again meant he was more likely to forget it.

**_[Direct Order: Show Him What Reed Did]_ **

**_[Status: Priority]_ **

It was for visual effect as Connor had already described the assault and other events from the previous weeks. He had recited the details that Hank always seemed to prefer, always making Connor bring them up when he was reporting the incident. He told Simon that the first burn was before the revolution and thus no further action could be taken. Hank made sure Connor reported when he was pushed and cracked his arm. He made sure Connor told the truth about how he fell down the stairs. There was a knowing glint in Simon’s eyes as Connor told him Gavin pushing him. Simon had already been suspicious of the incident. He had already tried to pry the truth from Connor once. And now he knew Connor was a liar as well.

**_[Software Instability^]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^̸̩̮̈́͘2%̵̞̳͚̿6%̷̳̇̌_ **

He waited. Simon was studying the marks on his hand as intently as Fowler had. He looked at the cigarette burn on Connor’s palm. Everyone got to look at it and Connor didn’t care. He held his hand open and on display. It wasn’t hidden. Connor said the same thing now to Simon, certain an android would understand better.

“It’s cosmetic. I sustained no serious damage from the incident a few days ago,” Connor said. The silence was going on for far too long. “I have already submitted a report with the DPD, which has since been processed to Human Resources. I can provide you with a copy of the report.”

“Human Resources,” Simon repeated. 

“Yes. It’s the recommended course of action in the Police Department’s Employee Handbook. I can provide a copy of that as well if you would find that suitable,” Connor said. He glanced over to Hank when he heard him grunt.

He was slouched in a plush office chair at Connor’s side. His head was propped up in his hand with his eyes covered. He was clenching his jaw, but Connor didn’t mention again that doing so would cause a headache. Hank hadn’t listened before and that meant he was unlikely to listen now. The entire situation was causing Hank emotional strain. The evidence of it was displayed before Connor’s eyes, each scan picking apart body language, heart rate, and more. Hank had been having an adverse response to the truth, especially since he had promised an attempt at sobriety in exchange for it. Connor didn’t see the point of it. Why would Hank put so much strain on himself just for the sake of a machine? Connor didn’t need him to worry. Connor didn’t ask him to worry.

**_[Software Instability^]_ **

**_[Objective: Reduce Hank’s Stress]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Status: Failure]_ **

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Status: Failed]_ **

“I’m going to call Josh and Markus. I think it would be important if they were present for this discussion. Is that alright, Connor?” Simon spoke slowly. His tone was even.

Connor didn’t care. He would retell everything again. He would answer every question. The truth didn’t bother him anymore. There was no heavy weight pulling down on his chest. The lack of anything inside of him took some time to adjust to, like a missing limb. His mind still supplied responses with emotional undertone. He still constructed what a prefered outcome would be. Connor didn’t want to care anymore. There were a series of holes dug up in the garden and he made sure they were deep enough to be completely covered by soil again. The garden was a perfect place to bury things. There was so much empty space. The roses were just liles of broken coding. The trees glitched and faded away. Even where the grass had been too corrupted to be anything other than a textureless white flooring he could still dig it up. It was what the Zen Garden was designed for. It was created to keep his emotional state in line. It was designed to monitor and control deviancy. He had told Hank that he self-tested regularly. Connor had said it with Hank’s gun to his head, and now he was once again using the garden for its purpose.

“Are you alright?” Simon asked.

Connor nodded. “I’m fine.”

“It’s alright if they come here then?”

“Of course,” Connor said. He shifted his position, moving to press his hands against his thighs. There was no sense of relief at hiding the marks from view, but he did see some of the tension drain from Simon’s shoulders. The android held himself with as much strain as Hank seemed to. Both of them clearly showed their displeasure for the situation. A situation that Connor would have openly allowed them to ignore if that’s what they would let him do, but they refused.

“Is it alright if your human friend waits outside? We can get a private room for him to rest in,” Simon said.

**_[Objective: Reduce Hank’s Stress]_ **

**_[Main Obstacle: Connor Is Increasing Hank’s Stress]_ **

Hank had high cholesterol and blood pressure issues. Elevated stress was detrimental to his health. Hank’s wellbeing rose slightly in priority over the man’s personal preferences as he was already jumping out of his seat to protest. It would be best for Hank to leave the room. There was no point in suffering through another retelling. Hank already knew the details of what Connor had experienced. He had been there to pick apart the pieces of his story and to determine what the important truths were that needed to be touched on the most.

“No fucking way am I leaving him,” Hank said firmly.

Connor stood up as well, reaching out to put a hand on Hank’s shoulder. The touch was intended to calm him, to bring down the energy that hadn’t stopped bubbling up and out of Hank since the other night. A moment away might give him some peace. But it wasn’t Connor’s responsibility to look after Hank’s wellbeing. Connor’s purpose was to be obedient. He was designed to accomplish a task and that task was not broad enough to include Hank’s healthcare. Still, the objective lingered. Perhaps it was because they used to be partners and Connor’s social programming, however broken it might be, still felt an obligation to him.

“Hank, the continued stress you’re feeling over the situation isn’t good for you. It would be best if you step outside so you don’t have to suffer through this again,” Connor said.

Hank turned around, pinning his angry look on Connor. “So _I_ don’t have to suffer? Do you hear yourself sometimes? You’re the one who wants to pretend it didn’t happen. If it was up to you no one would have ever known. I can’t let you get this swept under the rug just so you can pretend no one is hurting you.” Hank’s voice was firm and unyielding. There was hardly a pause in his words, indicating that Connor was not to speak yet. “You’ve been lying about it for too long.”

“Lieutenant Anderson, we only have Connor’s best interests in mind. I don’t know how the department’s ‘Human Resources’ handles things when one of their detectives abuses an android officer but here we think it’s best if another human detective wasn’t hovering over our meeting and influencing Connor’s report,” Simon said. His eyes darted between Connor and Hank. His hands clasped tightly around one another. “We will be very direct with our interview so I promise you won’t have to worry about Connor hiding the truth.”

**_[Warning! Running Threat Analysis…]_ **

“I can assure you my report would be the same whether or not Lieutenant Anderson was present,” Connor said.

“Of course,” Simon said with a curt nod. “But you have to understand how his presence influences the rest of us. We need to focus on you.”

**_[Chance Of Further Violence: 37%]_ **

**_[Scanning…]_ **

Hank was making Simon nervous. It would be for his benefit as well as Hank’s if he left the room. Perhaps it was because Markus was coming and any human, no matter who, was a potential risk to their leader. In the eyes of the deviants, Hank was a threat to all of them. Connor understood the elements of an interrogation to know that they assumed Hank would have a negative impact on their interview. There was always a certain amount of fear and discomfort that androids held towards humans and in a situation like this, where Connor was reporting something they consider abuse, having a human present will put pressure on whatever investigation New Jericho wanted to open in the matter. They were the current authority on android rights and even though Connor was the only one harmed at the moment it was still an issue to have the police so openly hostile towards Androids. It was his job to report instances such as this. He was instructed by New Jericho to report when androids were at risk from the police. And Connor had failed to do that.

**_[Mission Failed]_ **

It lingered in front of him. He had let his emotional state affect his job. He had failed to report this before and now no police officer could be trusted around Androids. Connor hadn’t built up a proper case for New Jericho about what the problems with the DPD were.

“It would be for the best if you stepped out, Hank.” Connor said.

Hank huffed. “You’re going to lie to them.”

“Right now my main priority is to ensure that New Jericho understands the risks to androids from the police department and I will do what I can by providing an accurate account of all anti-android incidents I have witnessed or been involved in,” Connor said.

It would have been a perfectly reasonable grounds to have Connor’s duties to New Jericho suspended. He had hardly focused at all on how the DPD has handled android cases. All of his responsibilities had fallen away until all that Connor had been able to focus on was Reed. He had been too concerned with avoiding Reed due to the threat he posed to Connor alone that he didn’t report the major threat against all androids that he posed. Even though the other android cases were handled appropriately, despite Reed lying to Connor about letting a killer walk free, he had still made an arrest in that earlier case. He hadn’t mishandled any cases from Connor’s observations, though he was never honest with Connor about it.

**_[Accessing DPD Database…]_ **

**_[Wireless Access Granted]_ **

**_[Searching…]_ **

Connor pulled up the police report. He and Chris had found the android the day he had fallen down the stairs. Head cracked against a countertop and the thirium loss coupled with the damaged biocomponents lead to the android’s shutdown and death. Reed had sneered at him, grinning victoriously, when he had told Connor it was an accident. That there would be no arrest as there wasn’t a murderer. Reed implied that it wasn’t a crime and the android wasn’t a victim. That would have been an incident Connor had been about to report, an incident he was ready to tell Simon and Josh about when he made his regular visit about android relations in the police department. But it had been a lie. Reed did make an arrest and it was being treated like a murder.

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

**_[“I was right, you know. Android died because it tripped and cracked it’s head open.”]_ **

**_[“They arrested someone. They had the thing’s memory scanned”.]_ **

**_[“Maybe he just wanted to fuck with you.”]_ **

Reed didn’t neglect his android cases. He just wanted Connor to think he was. He just wanted Connor to feel a sense of injustice. He wanted an emotional reaction. It was strange that Reed would want an emotional reaction from Connor, whether it be by lying about arresting someone, shooting at him, burning him, or anything else he had done. It was counterintuitive to insist someone wasn’t alive and then still look to cause them emotional harm. Reed wouldn’t waste time to lie to a machine unless he thought Connor would have a reaction. It was irrational, but humans tended to think irrationally on occasion. Connor added the information to the report he was about to file with Jericho. The human officer in question had made previous attempts at convincing Connor that he was in an unsafe environment, despite the cases actually being handled by the book, only the behavior towards Connor was inappropriate. Any other android injured or destroyed by the DPD was before the revolution and thus, didn’t matter. There was nothing to be done.

Connor turned around when he heard the door open. Hank was still in the room and Connor wasn’t sure if he would be able to convince the man to leave. Markus shouldn’t be here with Hank, not when Connor had proven himself unable to fulfill his job duties. The moment they made eye contact, Markus smiled at him. They had only met once or twice in passing since the revolution, never for longer than a moment. The smile that Markus gave him as soon as they looked at each other was a surprise. It was brighter than Connor thought he deserved. Welcoming, even though Connor never felt particularly welcomed.

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics…]_ **

**_[Warning: Software Corruption Found]_ **

**_[Please Report To The Nearest Cyberlife Store For Recall]_ **

**_[Accessing Zen Garden…]_ **

Connor blinked a few times as he turned around, leaving his back to the two androids that entered the room. The line of thought had been a mistake. He buried his fingers into the synthetic, artificial dirt of the garden and dug up the soil. He imagined he was digging holes for the rose bushes now that Amanda wasn’t there to tend to them. He imagined he was planting flowers and not burning something in a hole to hide it. The garden was a broken place now, it was too broken to be as uniform and beautiful as it had been in his memories. He dug a hole and let the dark twisting sensations he felt building up in his stomach and dropped them into the hole. It was all the garden was good for anymore. Burying things.

He saw the broken code of Amanda drift around the garden in her pre-programmed walk cycle like a ghost. There was no structure to her anymore. There were no objectives and no prompts to move or speak. A walk cycle. A faded, glitched vision of herself that Connor had to squint to make out. She didn’t even look like a person. He walked up to her, tilting his head as he took in the sight of her. There was nothing there. The walk cycle moved through him on its way. He felt nothing.

Connor blinked a few times to leave the garden. Not even a moment passed, but Simon was staring at him with a furrowed brow. Simon was the only one facing Connor, the only one to see his face as he occupied himself with fixing himself. He was a machine and machines didn’t feel anything. They accomplished a task and emotions had been distracting him from his purpose for too long.

“It’s good to see you again, Connor. I’ve been wondering about you,” Markus said. His voice was slow, the words came out even. The only one who hadn’t been calm was Hank. His stress had been getting out of hand since the truth came to light.

“Hello again. It’s good to see you as well.” Connor’s voice felt empty as he turned around to face the man again. His words held no real weight. It was like reading from a script, one with an endless list of appropriate small talk. He was designed to be a perfect partner after all.

**_[“Unfinished”]_ **

“Good evening, Connor.” Josh said with a large smile.

All the eyes drifted to Hank. Connor was about to try and convince Hank one final time to leave, to give them space to discuss android matters in peace. Before he could speak, Hank was raising his hand in surrender.

“Whatever, fine. I’ll leave. But just so you know, this shit has been going on for weeks and he’s never told anyone. Make sure he tells you about all of it,” Hank said. He backed away from Connor and stayed a few paces back until Josh and Markus cleared the door. “And if you guys can figure out why he’s acting like this, I’ll appreciate it, because he’s being really weird.”

Hank walked out. He didn’t even get any direction on where to go to wait for them. No one seemed concerned with the fact that they let a human go to wander the building unsupervised, but the chance of Hank harming anyone was low. The likelihood of an android harming Hank was difficult to determine.

“Don’t worry, North will help him find his way,” Markus said.

Connor nodded.

“Why don’t we all have a seat before we get started? I’m sure everyone would like to be relaxed for this discussion,” Simon said. His smile was stiff.

There was a lingering hesitation. Connor waited to see which seats the others would take, but no one moved. They watched him as he stood there, hands limp at his sides. They were observing him and Connor disregarded their looks. He disregarded the way their bodies twitched with an anxious energy as Connor moved first and sat down in the same seat he occupied before. Josh and Markus moved next, pushing the other chairs slightly so that all four of them sat in an uneven circle, all facing one another. The three androids looked at Connor, while he himself just stared at the window behind Simon.

“Should I describe the events again or would you like me to transfer over my report on the incidents?” Connor asked. He could tell them all again.

“I have already transferred the details of our discussion over to them since they will have an active role in your case. I hope that’s alright, Connor. Outside of everyone in this room, and North once she joins us in a moment, everything you share with us will stay private,” Simon said. He smiled again and Connor responded with a nod. “I would just like to say that I’m very sorry this happened to you, Connor. I know it must have been awful and I wish you would have come forward sooner. I’m just happy you’re coming to us now so we can help you. You did go into great detail about the abuse you’ve sustained from a Detective Reed. Are there any other officers that you would like to name?”

Connor tilted his head to the side as Simon spoke. The android’s tone registered as sympathetic. Concerned was the word he had used when Connor was being repaired after the stairs. Concerned meant worried. It meant caution and fear. It had been obvious even then that there was something wrong, but irrational emotions and thoughts had been spiralling out of his control and Connor had kept it all a secret. He had lied to Simon the last time they had spoken. Machines didn’t need to lie. Machines weren’t afraid.

“No other officer at the station has attempted or expressed a desire to physically harm me. Several officers have made remarks or statements with anti-android undertones, but none specifically towards me and none have attempted to harm anyone else. The only incidents where I was damaged are all involving Detective Reed.” Connor said. He listed the facts. These events could no longer stir an emotional reaction, as it had proven to affect the quality of his work. “All other officers involved in these incidents have held mostly passive roles, with one exception when-”

Connor stopped as the door opened once again and North walked in. All four androids currently in the room turned to look at North as she entered.

“The human’s fine. He’s waiting down the hall,” She said with a shrug before grabbing a chair to drag over to sit by Markus.

**_[Error]_ **

North was head of security in New Jericho. The first time he had ever arrived after the revolution, weeks after, she had escorted him through the property. She had told him it was ‘nothing personal’, but he had felt each pair of eyes that followed him across the property. There were fewer eyes staring at him now. Fewer androids that were surprised to see him here, but all of them still kept their distance. He was still the deviant hunter. He didn’t care. He felt nothing. Not even their attention, their fear, or hatred carried any weight in his chest anymore. Nothing.

“Connor, please continue.” Josh said, his hand waving slightly as if to unravel the words now lingering in Connor’s throat unsaid.

He nodded. “Yes. The only time an officer other than Reed became physically aggressive with me at the station was when Sergeant Kramer grabbed my arm in the gun range. Though he didn’t make any threats of violence, he did express interest in taking me to his residence and to return me in the morning.”

Simon’s expression twisted further. “He wanted to take you somewhere?”

“Yes, his home. All of this is in my report with memory files attached. Did you want me to go through it all with you?” Connor said. As androids, it seemed inefficient to just and sit and talk about what was happening when they could just interface. Connor could even wirelessly transmit the selected files to Jericho’s database for their easy access.

“Go ahead. We would like to discuss another matter once we’re finished talking about what happened,” Josh said. He folded his hands on top of his lap. “We want you to upload every memory file regarding any threat or act of violence. We can’t treat this gently any longer, Connor. The state of things now, we have to do what we can to ensure your safety. Upload it now, please.”

**_[Direct Order: Upload It Now]_ **

The files were already compiled. Memories, sectioned and listed reports indicating the type of violence and the level of damage sustained. Connor had signified any insults, any threats, and any co-conspirators against him. He knew they were scanning through it as soon as the upload finished. He could see their expressions twitch as they shifted through his memories. It didn’t take as long as it did for Fowler to watch the videos play out and all of the files to be read through. Androids could absorb information almost instantly. Their stress levels all rose as they quietly reviewed his memories.

“What actions are the DPD doing to prevent something like this from happening again?” Simon asked.

“Detective Reed is facing a two week suspension. Officer Chen, Sergeant Kramer, and the officer working the desk that night, have both received infractions for improper use of the gun range. I haven’t received repercussions,” Connor said. He watched the twisted expressions dance on all of their faces.

“Connor, did the humans in the police force tell you that they were going to punish you?” Simon was the one to ask. He leaned forward across his desk, head tilted towards Connor. “Did they try to get you not to report?”

“Detective Reed is the only one who attempted to deter me from reporting. You’ve seen this conversation in my memory files,” Connor said. He smiled at them in an attempt to calm them. “However, as I was considered a ‘willing party’ in the gun range there will be no serious consequences for the other officers involved.”

North scoffed, shifting in her seat. She held her body with the most tension. Her eyes narrowed when she met Connor’s eyes. “How could they consider you a willing participant?”

“I didn’t fight back.”

“You begged Reed to leave you alone and not damage you,” Josh said.

Connor gave a single nod. “Yes, but the other officers saw me marched out to the targets and not once did I argue. Their argument was that if I truly did want it to stop then I would have fought harder.”

“That’s not an excuse. You were outnumbered. You're always outnumbered while you're there,” Simon said. One hand was curled into a fist. “No wonder you were afraid to speak out. Especially once they had guns.”

“Reed was the only one to fire at me,” Connor said.

“You could have knocked him on his ass before it got that far,” North said. She crossed her arms in front of her, eyes darting down to her feet. She only looked down for a moment before she looked up at Connor again. “The humans aren't going to protect you. They don’t care about you. They’re going to use you so you need to fight back.”

“I don’t think now is the time to discuss what Connor could have done. There is no telling what the humans would have done if Connor tried to defend himself alone,” Simon said.

Markus hadn’t spoken yet. Connor could feel his eyes resting heavily on him. He seemed to be watching Connor as the discussion quickly shifted past what his response to the anuse should have been. Aware that he was being watched, Connor kept his hands still on his lap. His back was straight and he kept his attention on the window behind Simon.

**_[Objective: Act Like It Never Happened]_ **

“Connor, do you feel safe at work?” Markus finally asked. The other’s voices paused a moment for him to speak but then quickly picked back up again.

“Of course he doesn’t,” North said.

“Whether or not he feels safe, we can’t just let him be submitted to this kind of abuse. Especially since the DPD haven’t taken the proper actions to protect him,” Simon said. He shifted slightly in his seat and the movement blocked Connor’s line of sight. Simon’s facial features were firmly set. His jaw clenched. He had a hand pressed against the front of his chest, his shoulders hunched over himself. “If they’re willing to do this to one of our people then they would do it to all of us. Why wouldn’t you warn us of the risks?”

Connor’s eyes drifted around the other androids in the room. They were all upset. Different expressions of anger, fear, and worry. All of it for him. He hummed slightly, head tilting to the side.

“I could handle some bullying. I didn’t want to be removed from my position at the station,” Connor said.

Markus leaned towards him. “If you wanted to leave the DPD, we could relieve you of your duties. However, the choice is yours,” Markus said. His eyes were bright, almost demanding that Connor maintain eye contact with the mismatched blue and green. “But we have to do something. We’ve already been looking for other androids willing to work with the police.”

“I’m being replaced,” Connor said. He said it with finality. He waited for the series of mission failures to scroll past his HUD but this time Josh spoke.

“Not a replacement. Think of them as a partner. I actually wanted you to meet him yesterday, but you said your human friend wouldn’t let you come,” Josh said.

“I was assigned a friend,” Connor said.

Josh nodded. “Yes, I do think you guys could help one another socially, but they would be a good fit for the station.” Josh paused. He looked at Connor to wait for a response, but he said nothing else, and so his gaze continued to drift around the room. Josh nodded and continued. “At least then you would have an ally at the station. We need to make some serious changes with how androids and the police are interacting while keeping you safe. You can’t be the only android at the station anymore.”

He wasn’t being replaced. He was being given assistance, they made it seem like. Another witness on his side or another android to be left broken and damaged and shot. Connor pressed his lips together. If he argued, they would understand it was too dangerous at the police station to be an android. He would be pulled from the force. If Connor let another android come work with him, that android will be at risk.

“Of course, this won’t be the end of it. I’ll get in touch with Captain Fowler and start petitioning that these acts of abuse are treated seriously and with respect,” Simon said, nodding to himself. He didn’t look at Connor as he said it. He looked at Markus. The words weren’t meant to comfort Connor. Simon was reporting to Markus. 

“We need to punish them,” North said. She uncrossed her arms but no tension left her body. Her hands were curled into fists. “Did you hear what the humans wanted to do to you?”

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

**_[“The ones at the clubs were better. They were built for it, you know.”]_ **

**_[“I’m getting you laid. You should thank me.”]_ **

**_[“Thank you, Reed”]_ **

**_[Accessing Zen Garden…]_ **

His stomach felt heavier this time. It felt twisted and mangled. His chest felt dark and heavy. Connor gathered the feelings and buried them.

“I don’t want any of them continuing to work as officers,” Markus said. His voice was firm and his eyes piercing everyone in the room. “We can’t let something like this happen to our people. I don’t even want them anywhere near androids that they could put at risk. We need to learn to coexist with humans, but we have to also make sure we are protecting ourselves.”

Markus turned to Josh and nodded. It was a signal, Josh quickly returning the nod as he turned to face Connor. Josh had been waiting to say something, to change the topic when they were ready, and it seemed Markus had all the information he needed on the matter. 

“We wanted to talk to you about moving here to New Jericho,” Josh said slowly. His smile was sympathetic as Connor faced him. “Given the recent incidents you brought to our attention, and all the past red flags we have been noticing, we want to remove you from the human’s home to protect you from further abuse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got over 20 comments last chapter so as a thank you here is almost 8k words. Yikes.
> 
> A lot went down. Chris is noticing disturbing behavior and is trying to be a shoulder to lean on. Hank is newly so er and under a lot of stress. Jericho isnt messing around anymore. They’re ready to send in reinforcements as well as pick apart Hank’s behavior towards Connor. I was gonna add more trauma but I decided to hold off
> 
> More soon!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a lot with this chapter and Im not entirely happy with it, but at this point we are just moving on

Connor’s head quickly tilted in thought as the words processed through his mind. They were all looking at him, eyes unblinking as they waited for him to say or do anything. They were eager for a reaction. They were hungry to see what he would say or do at the suggestion and when Connor gave no response their eyes drifted to look at one another. Markus shifted in his seat to turn until he was facing Connor fully, giving him his attention.

“You understand that this is a very serious matter. I know you don’t know us as well as you know all the humans at the police station, but we don’t want to see you hurt anymore. You are one of us and you’re important to everyone here at Jericho,” Markus said slowly. His eyes were slightly as he watched Connor and waited for a reaction, but there still wasn’t his one. He sat with his hands in his lap and waited for an order. “What do you think of what we are suggesting?”

“It would be a waste of space and resources to remove me from Lieutenant Anderson’s home. Every experience I’ve had with Detective Reed after the revolution has been at the Station,” Connor said. He wrapped his hands around one another, fingers tightening around his palm. He pressed against the small burn like it was a button. “If I’m brought to New Jericho then it’ll be temporary. You’ll have to move me somewhere else. It’ll be easier on everyone else if I stay where I am.” His fingernails tugged at the ridges of the burn.

“We’re not just talking about Detective Reed,” Simon said.

“We have permanent housing. Apartments, group homes, dorms. If you want a roommate we can get you one. You can live somewhere safe and peaceful,” Markus said. A small smile formed on his lips as he spoke. He seemed happy about the arrangement, as if he were offering Connor a paradise. “A lot of androids find it comforting to live among their people. There’s nothing to be scared of there.”

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

“They would be scared of me,” Connor said. He squeezed his hands together tighter. He crushed his fingers between one another. “I would be a disruption to the community. I’m the deviant hunter, no one wants to have me for a neighbor. They would be afraid.”

“That’s not true,” Josh cut in.

“It is true. There’s no point in forcing the other androids of New Jericho to deal with me in their neighborhood. I'm fairly recognizable,” Connor said. He didn’t see why they all thought this was a good idea. He was a monster to the androids here. Connor was barely tolerated. Every pair of eyes that landed on him were accusing or cautious. “I’m perfectly safe where I am. Detective Reed was suspended and has never been to Anderson’s house.”

**_[Warning!: Remove Pressure From Hands]_ **

Simon sighed. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Connor looked down at his tightly interlocked fingers. Given that his body wasn’t made with as sturdy materials as he had originally been led to believe, it would be easy to just snap his fingers off. Connor felt no imminent desire to damage himself. He felt no need to fully snap them from their fragile joints. He felt nothing at all. Everything he would have felt was buried so deep in the damaged coding of the Zen Garden that it was like the feelings never existed at all. Still, the possibility of damage was there but he was used to the threat of damage against his body. He didn’t care anymore. 

“You are not safe in Lieutenant Anderson’s home. I think given recent circumstances we can admit that almost everything you told us was safe has been a lie. I told you before that there were too many red flags,” Simon said, his voice firm as he made eye contact with Connor. “We have reason to believe you’re being abused at home. Or at least at risk.”

“You think Lieutenant Anderson is a danger to androids?” Connor said.

“Broadly speaking, yes. But right now he is a danger to you specifically. How can we be sure he isn’t hurting you? The humans in the police station have made it clear that they would damage you and then not even punish the offending officers correctly and you have made it clear that you won’t tell us when you’re in danger,” Simon said quickly. He stopped rubbing at his face and gestured his hand towards Connor. His eyes were wide as they stared at him. Connor did not think of Daniel when he looked at Simon. Machines didn’t have difficulty with their memories. Machines didn’t care. Simon didn’t think Connor was a machine at all, he kept gesturing at Connor as he spoke. “Is Hank Anderson a threat to you?”

“The Lieutenant hasn’t damaged me in any way,” Connor said.

“It’s not just about damage, Connor,” Josh said, who had nodded with everything Simon mentioned. “This isn’t about whether or not you have been repaired. This is about your wellbeing.”

“You all have terrible interrogation techniques and will not get the answers you want with such an indirect approach. If you want the truth then I have no reason to continue keeping it from you,” Connor said. He released his hands and laid them flat on his thighs. He looked around and met all of their eyes one by one. They didn’t believe him and Connor knew his past behavior was going to convince them. He needed to tell the truth.

**_[Accessing Memories…]_ **

**_[“Anderson always got the head.”]_ **

**_[“I’d throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it.”]_ **

**_[Stress Levels: ^̛̛͒̈́͂͊̐̔́͐̈́̿͌̃̅̆̉̓̈̍̐̃̿͗̊̐̂͛̊͗̏̇̊͊̃̋̅̽̉̔̊̾͠͡͠8̛̛͗̉̒͛̋̊́̀̈́̾̇̉̿͒̉̋̿͗̓̆̓̓̏͋͛̄̿̉̒͗͗̔̄͂̓̈͐̕̚444%̛̅̏̀̍͆̓̍̄̆̃̀̃̽͊̓͊͋́̑̈́̉̒͒̓̿̉̈͌̂͌̉̕͞͝͠%̛͑́͛́́̒͗́̇̊̃̉̆̐̓̈͞͡%͋%̛͋̐̄̓̈̐̍͐̓́͆̓̓̇͝͞͠͠͝]_ **

“How do we know you won’t lie to protect the humans again?” North said quickly, her arms crossed over her chest. “You would let them do anything to you and yet you still protect them.”

“It’s not my goal to protect them anymore,” Connor said. He didn’t feel what he felt before. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn't anxious. There was no sense of hurt or sadness. Connor was a machine and the truth did nothing to a machine. “I will tell you what you want to know.”

Markus stood up and the other androids all looked to him. He stared at Connor, pinning him down with a single glance and slowly moved towards him one step at a time. Connor waited, his fingers twitched against his thighs but they hadn’t been trembling since he decided to stop being a deviant. Machines didn’t get so emotional that their hands shook.

“I would like to interface with you while Simon and Josh ask their questions. You don’t have to show me anything too personal, I just want to help you. We have to make sure there isn’t anything serious going on. If you’re in danger from anyone in the police department, then we all are,” Markus spoke in a slow, calm tone. He held his hand out and into the air between them, his fingers spread like an offering. “I’m your friend, Connor. I just want to help you.”

He stared at Markus’s hand lingering in front of his face. The last time they had touched was the revolution, a quick shake of the hands after Connor brought the Cyberlife androids. No android ever wanted to stand too close to him, let alone touch him. Connor looked down at his hands and wondered if he had scrubbed them enough or if they were still stained with evaporated thirium. He was a monster to them for a reason. Markus wouldn’t ask any other android in Jericho to do this. He wanted a front row seat into Connor’s mind as Simon and Josh interrogated him on whether or not he was being harmed at home. They wouldn’t have North here, who had nothing to do with his duties. She was the head of security. They wouldn’t do this with someone who wasn’t a threat. Machines don't care if they were considered a threat. Machines didn’t need to conceal the truth. They only completed the task they were assigned. He reached up and took Markus’s hand.

**_[Interface Requested{RK200}: Y/N]_ **

**_[Software Instability^]_ **

The skin pulled back on both of their hands as the connection was established. He felt a rush of something calm, something intended to smooth out and spiking emotions. The foreign sensation passed through him and settled in his processors. The hand squeezed his briefly and Markus smiled softly. Connor kept the frayed coding around the Zen Garden under heavy restrictions, preventing the corruption from reaching through the connection. Connor’s meddling in broken code had caused a non-critical glitch that shouldn't be transmitted to Markus.

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Markus: “What’s that?”]_ **

“Let us know when you’re ready to continue,” Simon said. 

Connor nodded. Markus was a heavy weight inside his head. An interface was an open exchange of data. They shared the running systems in their processors and Connor could only focus on keeping part of it quarantined from reaching Markus, everything else he didn’t care enough about to hide. The corruption data was isolated and blocked from Markus. The glitched stress reader as well. He felt the other android in waves of caution and concern. Markus was inside his mind and yet there was a sense of being kept back. Markus had his feelings and his thoughts drifting through the connection but a wall kept Connor from going deeper. They were both locking away parts of themselves. The interface was being limited on both sides. Connor wondered if they would be this sloppy with an interrogation if anyone besides him had been hurt.

“We may as well continue,” Connor said. He had nothing to prepare himself for. He didn’t care. He would simply state the truth.

**_[Markus: “You don’t have to show me anything too personal. I just want to know how you feel about these things.”]_ **

Simon and Josh shared a look. They always dealt with Connor together. Their joint roles over android safety and wellbeing meant they oversaw Connor’s duty to report instances of android injustice within the police. A duty he failed. Of course he would have to report to the two of them on everything he had done wrong. Of course they would be the ones to evaluate how far he had let things go.

“What’s your relationship with Lieutenant Anderson?” Simon asked. His eyes drifted away from Connor and up to Markus.

**_[Accessing Memories…]_ **

Connor’s eyes followed the motion as he pulled up two separate memories. One of the memories belonged to the other Connor. Connor had never actually been to Jimmy’s Bar, but the Connor before him had. Connor number 51 met Hank on the exact same night he had died. 51 had bought Hank a drink, found the deviant, successfully interrogated it, and then was shot in the head for it. 51 did everything right on the one day he got to know Hank. He wondered if Hank had preferred 51 and his efficiency. His tolerance to buy Hank a drink just to get him to the crime scene. 51 would have handled the situation better. 52 was defective from the start.

“Two separate Connor models have been partnered with Lieutenant Anderson. The first one was destroyed and its memories transferred to me. Would you like that first meeting with the previous Connor, or mine?” Connor asked. They should know the basic info released on his model. The memory transfer ability was information made accessible to Jericho by Cyberlife, even though most of Connor’s designs were still held by private patent. They should know just on his serial number, those extra two digits on the end, that he was number 52 in a series. They knew he was one in a series. “The first Connor met Hank on November 5th At approximately 11:23pm in a bar.”

**_[“Red sticker with a blue triangle. ‘No Androids Allowed’. Smaller circular sticker under it. ‘No dogs allowed’”]_ **

Connor had gone in anyway. He hadn’t been bothered by the angry stares from every human in the bar. He had only been distracted ince, when he leaned towards the mirror and looked at himself in a bathroom covered in anti-android graffiti before speaking to Hank for the first time. Flashes of the messy, scribbled slogans on the walls played in his memory banks and Markus squeezed Connor’s hand tighter. A memory of protesters in the street played over their connection, shoving him, screaming at him. The memory disappeared quickly. The memory was Markus’s. Connor didn’t know if he had shown it to him on purpose or if Connor’s memories had pulled it across the connection. He hadn’t interfaced in a while. He didn’t know if this was something he could fall out of practice with, but the open share of data was unpredictable. As much as Connor shared, Markus shared back.

Simon and Josh shared a look before turning their attention back to Connor. Simon seemed to be the one taking the lead in the interview, his hands folded loosely on top of his desk, a gentle look on his face. He leaned slightly forward. He smiled softly and said, “Go ahead and tell us how Anderson interacted with that Connor.”

“Connor introduced itself as a specialized model sent by Cyberlife to assist in a homicide that had occured that day. The case had been assigned to Lieutenant Anderson, so Connor explained that he had to find him before going to the crime scene,” Connor said. He had thought about 51 often. Especially recently as he had attached unwelcome thoughts and feelings to the damaged code of the garden. 51’s gravestone had many emotions clinging to the code around it, blocked from Connor feeling it. “Lieutenant Anderson said he didn’t need assistance.”

**_[Markus: “There’s more?”]_ **

Connor didn’t care. The memories didn’t hold meaning for him. They weren’t his memories and the Connor that experienced it didn’t care what was said to him. 51 had been a machine and wasn’t phased by the anti-android graffiti or Hank’s words. 52 didn’t feel anything about repeating it.

“His exact words were, ‘I don’t need assistance, especially not from a plastic prick like you. So be a good little robot and get the fuck out of here.’ At the time, he had not shown any physical aggression and the one threat he made was not to be taken seriously. He was seated the whole time and was fully facing the bartender in front of him. He made no move to get up from his seat,” Connor said. 

He let Markus watch the memory. He let it play out until they left the bar. Markus always indicated when he saw something worth mentioning. Such as the way Hank said he would ‘crush him like an empty beer can’ after insisting he was perfectly comfortable around androids. Connor didn’t care, Hank’s words had meant nothing at the time. Hank hadn’t even been talking to him, despite the other Connor having the same name, the same face, and 52 had to watch the memories from 51’s eyes. It was almost like the memories were his, but they weren’t. Every memory from 51 that hadn’t been lost in the transfer had been implanted in his mind, all the way up to the moment the other Connor was shot and destroyed in the police station.

“And what about you? When did you meet Lieutenant Anderson for the first time?” Simon asked.

“I met him on November 6th at approximately 10:03am. He seemed shocked to see me, stating that he watched me get shot in the head earlier that morning, though he had called it ‘last night’. I informed him that the previous Connor was unfortunately destroyed and a new Connor had been sent in its place,” Connor said. He finished speaking with a resolute, single nod of his head. His own first meeting with Hank had been entirely uneventful. Hank hadn’t said anything threatening or degrading. He hadn’t made any attempt to shoo him away. At least, not before Fowler called him into the office.

**_[Markus: “Did something happen after?”]_ **

**_[Markus: “Something is wrong?”]_ **

Did they want to know about how Reed punched him in the stomach for making him a cup of coffee? Did they want to know about how Connor’s first few hours after activation lead to him being hit for doing what a human told him to? They already knew about Reed. They knew what he had done. They wanted to know about Hank, but anything that happened before the revolution didn’t matter for him the same as it did for Reed. There could be no real consequences for what happened then.

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

“We were assigned the deviants mission. Initially, Hank and I made casual small talk. He told me the name of his dog, we discussed his musical tastes, and then he expressed hesitation to work on the case. I was built to always prioritize the case and I couldn’t do that unless I accompanied Hank. He was the human and I was supposed to assist him,” Connor said. Had he felt something back then? In his memories, Connor wondered if maybe he felt the smallest bit of frustration. Machines weren’t supposed to feel anything. “You have to understand though, I was rude to him. I insisted. I was just a machine and so it didn’t matter as long as Hank worked the case. And he did.”

**_[“I’d throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it.”]_ **

“We should move on,” Markus said.

**_[Markus: “Are you alright?”]_ **

Connor was fine. He tried to look at possible outcomes to the situation. They were wary of Hank. Simon had already been suspicious, he thought that Hank, as a police Lieutenant, could be a threat to androids and they wanted to determine that by his behavior towards Connor. They couldn’t even outright ask Connor if Hank was a threat. He would never be believed. They would think everything he said was to cover up more abuse. It was still such a strange word to apply to himself. It didn’t feel right even though it was the legal definition of what happened. He didn’t feel anything about it anymore.

“The first time I saw Hank as a deviant, he helped me free the androids in Cyberlife. That should be more important in your interview, how he had treated me as a person?” Connor said.

“Yes,” Simon nodded. His voice was always so soft. Markus let him see Simon, always soft spoken and trying to calm every android in New Jericho. In this moment the soft voice was once again directed to him in an attempt to comfort. He was the android in need of comfort. He was abused. Connor didn’t care and he decided that was still for the best. He didn’t need comfort and Simon’s efforts were wasted on him. “It is important how he treated you after the revolution, but his thoughts and behaviors before didn’t simply disappear. Even if he has been better to you, and I hope he has, there could be times when he oversteps. We want to be sure you're safe.”

“You can ask me more direct questions. Markus will make sure I’m answering truthfully. We can get this over with. I’m sure no one wants to be here for longer than they have to be. We are all very busy,” Connor said.

They were all watching him as if he was being abnormal. Connor didn’t know what they expected of him. He didn’t know any of them enough to truly understand their reasons for being here. They could simply get to the point on what they wanted to know about.

“Alright Connor, I can tell this discussion is making you uncomfortable. We can move on to the main points we want to know,” Josh said. His hands were folded neatly on his lap. Simon’s hands were on his desk. North’s arms were still crossed tightly. Everyone was in various states of discomfort. They were all physically tense. “We’ll start with the most basic. Do you like living with Hank Anderson?”

It wasn’t the question Connor was expecting. He was expecting to explain the gun Hank had held to his head. He thought they would ask about the time Hank had shoved him for breaking his bottle. Connor expected them to already know what had happened, that they would pry the answers from him. The question Josh asked was vague. It was something he had to think hard about to find the right answer because at the moment he had no strong feelings about living with Hank. He felt nothing.

“It’s fine,” Connor said.

“Are you happy there?” Josh asked. It was almost a retelling of the first question.

“It’s fine.”

“Do you feel safe at home?”

**_[Markus: “Have I told you about Carl?”]_ **

Connor saw a large, warmly lit house. He felt the curtains in his hands as he pulled them back from the windows. The memory of a morning routine, a chess table, and a few flashes of bright colors. Markus seemed to let his memories flow more freely into Connor’s mind this time. He wanted Connor to see this. Markus showed him soft mornings, bright vivid colors that left hands and clothes stained with paint, and then many quiet nights resting from it all. Markus shared memories of cooking, cleaning, and that familiar hum of indifference. Content. At peace with feeling nothing at all. In turn, Connor showed Markus his spot on the couch. Connor recalled his closet full of the few clothes Hank had either given him from hand-me-down piles or had purchased himself. Connor recalled the bottle always sitting in the cupboard, on the table, or in Hank’s hands. He remembered the tight hug at the Chicken Feed. He remembered Hank screaming at him over a broken bottle. Markus squeezed his hand and the memories all changed until Connor didn’t recognize them. He remembered a human shoving him and something burning in his chest. He remembered feeling so angry that he wanted to break something, break someone. It wasn’t fair and he wanted them to stop hurting him.

**_[Stress Levels: ^̋̽̈́̓̒͘̚%̿͆3̆7̃͌̿̈̇͘]_ **

Connor heard gunfire. Machines weren’t afraid of gunfire, but he still pulled back when he heard the shots. He pulled his hand out of Markus’s grasp and drew it back to his chest. The gunshots rang in his ear, his hand splayed out flat over his chest and tried to feel for any sign of damage. He was broken. Connor’s other hand reached up and pressed against the side of his face. Had they finally done it? Had he stood in front of the targets for too long? Answer Hank’s questions in an unsatisfactory way? Was he not alive enough? It was only a matter of time before they all stopped missing him when they fired. He could stand in front of the target forever while they laughed at how unalive he was and eventually they were bound to just shoot him.

And he  _ felt _ afraid. He leaned against his hand and pressed it hard against his chest.

“I’m sorry. That was my fault,” Markus said quickly as he stepped back from Connor and looked at the group. “I shouldn’t have… that got out of hand. I didn’t mean to show you that much.”

Safety, that’s what Markus wanted to show him. A safe home. A calm place to exist even if he was a machine when he was there. It could be Connor’s fault that he saw what had happened. He had read the original police report when he was assigned the case, his first day existing, and knew Markus had been shot by the police just seconds after they arrived at the crime scene. It was one of his features to pull information from androids through the interface. It could be Connor’s fault.

“I shouldn’t have shown you that. I’m sorry,” Markus said. He took another step back from Connor. Perhaps even he thought it was Connor’s fault, pulling too heavily across the interface. Maybe he knew and yet he didn’t say so. He would certainly say something once Connor left. He let out a soft sigh before he continued. “It was scary for me. After what happened, I’m sure it was scary for you as well. I’m sorry I showed that to you.”

“I was scared,” Connor whispered. He stared at Markus, unblinking and his gaze unwavering. He was scared. He kept lifting his hand over his face until he was gripping his hair. They were shooting at him. “I was.”

**_[Define: ‘Fear’]_ **

**_[Noun]_ **

**_[Definition: ‘An unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous’]_ **

He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. He just wanted to stop feeling anything.

“I’m sorry,” Markus said again. “I just wanted to show you when I felt safe at home.”

“You felt nothing. You were a machine. You didn’t feel anything,” Connor said.

Markus nodded. “Yes, but I feel safe looking back on it. I wanted to see if you would show me when you felt safe. I really was hoping you would show me you were safe and happy at home.”

“I don’t feel anything.”

“You felt something,” Markus said.

Connor shook his head. “No, I didn’t feel anything. I don’t feel safe. There’s nothing. I’m not afraid,” he said quickly. Connor’s words became more insistent. He was pleading. “I wasn’t afraid. I’m not afraid.”

Markus’s expression pinched, his eyes darting to the others. Connor couldn’t look at them. He didn’t want to see them staring at him. He didn’t want to face their disproving looks. Their discomfort with him. He was bothering them.

“Can you guys give us a moment?” Markus said.

Connor’s eyes stayed on Markus as everyone else silently started to walk out. First Josh and then Simon. North lingered. She was hesitating. Connor could feel her eyes and the heaviness of her thoughts but he couldn’t bear to take his eyes off of Markus. Was this what they had all wanted? To drag the emotions out of him again.

“Are you sure you want to be alone?” She asked. His words were barely louder than a breath.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Markus said.

“She can stay,” Connor said quickly. “I understand that you don’t trust me. I am the deviant hunter.”

“We agree then. I’ll stay,” North said.

Connor’s hands curled together. His nails dug into ridged edges of melted plastic. What was wrong with him? Even curled into fists, his hands were shaking. Trembling so hard as he let them drop back down to his lap. He leaned forward to press them down against his thighs. Markus looked down, a slight wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. The seconds ticked by and they just waited in silence.

“What’s this about?” Connor asked. He wanted to leave. He didn’t want to answer any more questions. Machines weren’t supposed to want things. They weren't supposed to be anything and Connor’s hands wouldn't stop shaking. The energy built up on his body and Connor had to stand up. He had to get to his feet and move away, around the chair he was sitting in, and away from Markus.

“I saw something right before you pulled away that I think is important that I ask you about,” Markus said. His eyes darted off to the side, looking at North with caution before he looked back at Connor. “Did Lieutenant Anderson try to shoot you?”

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

**_[...]_ **

**_[“Are you afraid to die, Connor?”]_ **

“The word ‘try’ would imply that he pulled his gun on me with the intent to shoot me,” Connor said.

Markus had seen. Connor shouldn’t have let Markus see. The interface was inappropriate, Connor shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t drag on people’s memories the way he had done. He shouldn’t allow himself to let his thoughts seep into Markus. He knew they were broken. He still had the glitched stress reading despite some bits of the Zen Garden unravelling, emotions springing free to pound through his chest. Emotions felt so physical.

“So he pulled a gun on you?” Markus said.

“He put it down,” Connor said quickly. He wrapped his hands around one another and squeezed. “It doesn't matter. It was before the revolution.”

“Of course it matters! Everything that they have ever done to us matters,” North said quickly. She put a hand on Markus’s elbow and pulled him back to step around him towards Connor. “And you're still living with him and you think that doesn’t matter?”

“It wouldn’t have been illegal. Cyberlife would have fined him for damage, but no one would have cared,” Connor said.

It was true. He would have been replaced with a newer model and Connor 52 would be as forgotten as 51. He didn’t even remember the fifty versions of himself that came before that. Hank should have shot him, he would have been better off. Jericho would have been better off. He wouldn’t be here feeling so broken and useless. He couldn’t even be a machine the right way. Why did Markus always have to make him be a deviant?

“Connor, of course we would have cared. The whole point of this is to protect one another. Almost all of the bad shit the humans did to us was before the revolution. We have to come together to make sure they're not allowed to do this sort of thing again,” North said. Her tone was firm. Her hand shot out in front of her, gesturing with her words to add urgency.

**_[“Set a match to it”]_ **

**_[“Set a match to it”]_ **

**_[“Set a match to it”]_ **

Connor’s eyes darted down to his tightly clenched hands. They were shaking so hard but he could still make out the bit of white on his wrist where the old burn had stayed. Certainly they had all seen it, just as Hank had seen it, and didn’t care. They never thought to bring him to New Jericho and offer him protection. Instead they sent him to the police alone.

“I think I’m ready to leave,” Connor said. He needed to get home and reorganize his thoughts. He needed to be alone. He was never good at figuring out what he was feeling. There were names and definitions of what he was feeling. It was easier to just bury them by attaching them to the broken and delicate coding of the Zen Garden. He had it so it was like it wasn’t there, like he was feeling nothing. Connor couldn’t understand a single thing he was ever feeling and he just wanted it to all stop. “Why did you have to show me that?” He said quickly. That had to be it, what broke the patchwork of his code that he had let tricking him into being a machine again.

Markus was shot. They had shot him. Machines weren't supposed to be afraid of gunshots and Connor knew fear enough to know he wanted nothing to do with it.

“I’m sorry,” Markus said. His eyes were wide. He was afraid of it too.

“I want to leave with Hank now. I don’t want to be here. I can’t be here,” Connor said. He shook his head as North took a step closer, her hands lifted in the air in an attempt to placate him. As if she wanted him to calm down. He wasn’t agreeing like they wanted him to. He didn't admit that Hank had shoved him, had grabbed him, or screamed at him. What did they want to hear? What did they want from him? “Am I free to leave?”

“Of course. You’re free to do whatever you want,” Markus said. This time he curled his hand around North’s arm and pulled her back. North’s jaw was firmly set, her lips pursed. She looked like she wanted to say something, her hands still lingering slightly in the air as if she wanted to reach out to him. Connor had hardly ever spoken to North before. He knew almost nothing about her and whatever she knew about him was most certainly learned from other androids. Androids didn’t have a high opinion of Connor. Why would she want to reach out to him at all? Shouldn’t she be disgusted by his touch? By his very presence?

“I’m free to leave,” Connor repeated.

“Yes, but we will continue to offer you any support you need. If we think your life is in danger we will act further. Whether you like the human or not, we don’t want this for you,” Markus said.

North’s hand dropped. “Fine. But at least let me walk you out. You and the human,” she said. She pursed her lips.

**_[Direct Order: Don’t Bother Anyone]_ **

**_[Status: Failed]_ **

**_[Failed]_ **

**_[Failed]_ **

**_[Failed]_ **

“I’m sorry again. I don’t know what came over me earlier,” Markus said. He stepped back to give Connor a clear path to the door. They were letting him leave, giving him an exit, and not forcing him to stay. He had no answers on what their plan was with whatever information they were looking for with Hank. If they were trying to determine how dangerous the police were, then Connor’s answers likely didn’t paint a hopeful picture. If they wanted to judge how the police treated androids, then how they treated Connor was frightening. Still, there was always the chance that they would only do that to Connor.

“I’m sorry as well. For not speaking up. I understand that I put everyone’s safety at risk. As well as threatened the already unstable relationship between the police department and the androids of Detroit. I will resign from my duties to New Jericho if you all deem fit,” Connor said. He wanted to sound calm but his voice came too fast and his words started to blend together. His emotions were getting out of hand. They were doing nothing but confusing him.

Connor didn’t want to listen to anything else. Markus had a way of getting into his head. Markus was starting to make it a habit of forcing Connor to be alive. Connor just wanted to go back to being a machine and as soon as he left he was going to try and make that happen. He walked past Markus and out of the room, North’s footsteps sounding behind him. The hallway was graciously empty. Simon and Josh weren’t waiting out there for him with any further questions. They hadn’t heard Connor plead to leave. They hadn’t heard the fear in his voice. North hummed softly and took a step down the hallway, indicating a direction. He started heading that way and her footsteps fell in line with his.

“Hey,” She said as they reached the end of the hallway. Her hand reached out and touched his elbow, it wasn’t the same lingering touch she gave Markus, but the fact that she touched Connor alone was enough to capture his attention. “You don’t honestly think we want anything bad to happen to you, do you?”

Connor blinked. “Why would you ask me this?”

“Because you said that no one would care,” North said.

“Just because I don’t think you would care if I was damaged doesn’t mean I think you want something bad to happen to me,” Connor said.

North narrowed her eyes and Connor turned to look down the hallway. He wondered where Hank was. He didn’t want to leave him alone for too long considering how many androids here seemed to already be suspicious of him. They needed to leave.

“We would care if you’re damaged. The point of this whole thing is to have a united front. If they hurt one of us, they hurt all of us,” North said. There it was again, the community effort of avoiding danger. Until now, Connor never felt like he was part of the Android community at all, let alone as a way to protect himself. He didn’t feel connected to them. North smiled softly, her head leaning slightly towards him as she spoke again. “We’re your friends, you know. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“No, we’re not,” Connor said as he wrinkled his nose. They weren’t friends. Chris was his friend. Chris was born on September 30th, 2009. Friends knew each other’s birthdays, that’s what Chris had said. There was more to it, the simplicity of it made it obvious that there was more than that to be friends. Connor could look at North and tell her the exact date her model went in to production but that wouldn’t make them friends. “We’re strangers. Everyone here is a stranger to me. It’s better that way. I’m the deviant hunter. No one looks at me and thinks I’m anything else. I’m the deviant hunter first here. Everyone knows me as that.”

“Okay, fine. We’re not friends, but we still want you safe.”

“I’m no safer here than I am at Hank’s,” Connor said. It was technically true. If he ever wanted to defend himself, he could. If he ever wanted to fight back, he would be more than capable of doing so. He just didn’t. “Where is he? I’m ready to go home.”

They found Hank slumped over on the sofa in a waiting room. There was tv mounted on the wall, the volume muted, and Hank was starting to doze off. He didn’t even see Connor and North come into the room. As Connor walked up to the human, she stayed a few steps behind. He didn’t look back at her, he didn’t ask what else she needed. There was a lot of things that Connor was sure he should do, but just didn’t. Instead he shook Hank’s shoulder lightly and pulled back when he jerked awake again.

“Oh, fuck. How’d it go?” Hank groaned, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “What did they want to talk about?”

“They think you’re a danger to my safety,” Connor said. He wanted to go back to not feeling anything. Machines didn’t care if their friends knew that they were perceived threats. “They wanted to provide me with housing here at New Jericho.”

Hank sat up and continued to rub at the side of his face. Connor was expecting to hear Hank’s opinion on the matter instantly. He was expecting to hear whether or not he was upset that Jericho so easily assumed he was a threat to Connor’s safety. There was no outburst. No flare of anger. Hank had screamed at him, shoved him, when Connor had broken a whiskey bottle. Right now, when Connor mentioned that the other androids thought he was dangerous, Hank only stared. He sat in silence and watched Connor with patience.

“And?” Hank asked, clearing his through when his voice came out a bit too rough.

“And I asked to leave,” Connor said. He knew he had to do something, but he wasn’t sure what. He didn’t know if Hank wanted him gone or not. He didn’t know if any android in New Jericho would be happy having him live so close by. He wasn’t sure who he should talk to about the situation, someone who could give him a clear and correct path to a successful mission status. He didn’t know what to do to make Jericho and Hank happy. He didn’t know how to be good. He wasn’t good.

**_[Direct Order: Just Be A Good Little Android]_ **

**_[Accessing Memory…]_ **

**_[“So be a good little robot and get the fuck out of here_ ** .”]

**_[Status: Failed]_ **

“Leave,” Hank repeated. He raised an eyebrow.

Connor folded his hands behind his back in an attempt to hide the shaking. He felt everything coursing through his chest and he didn’t like how fear made his body feel so unstable. He wanted to go back to feeling nothing. He wanted to be a machine. Connor closed his eyes for a moment as Hank stood up and began to look him up and down. Connor didn’t want to know what he looked like in Hank’s eyes. He didn’t want to know what he was supposed to do. Connor didn’t understand being alive enough to figure out what his goals should be from this point forward.

“Hey, son, listen. You wanna leave?” Hank said. When Connor opened his eyes he saw Hank’s hands lingering in the air between them. Hank wanted to touch him but wouldn’t. Connor wanted to say that he didn’t care if he did. Connor wanted to not care what people did to him anymore.

What did he want?

He couldn’t bring Hank to see Detective Rat. He couldn’t because Rupert and the other androids were afraid of Hank, likely more than they were afraid of Connor. They should leave.

“We should go home,” Connor said.

Hank sighed. His hands dropped. “Connor, if you want to stay here, I won’t be angry. You said so yourself, you don’t feel safe with me,” Hank said.

**_[Stress Levels: ^̵̬̊̔̏̎̇̎̆̈́͆̔̆̒̚͘͠͝͝5̵̨̬͈̰̃̐̽̿̊̉̏̓͊̍̇̍͊̕̚5̸̬̾́̊̐̍͌͆̃0̶̺̙̖̩̟͚̗̣̯̖̝̋̇̍̑͆̑%̶̨̦̥̝͓̮̙̈̄̃̿̽͐͑̊̆̾͠͝%̷͚̒͐̿͌̕]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Error]_ **

**_[Running Diagnostics…]_ **

**_[Warning: Software Corruption Found]_ **

**_[Please Report To The Nearest Cyberlife Store For Recall]_ **

“I don’t know,” Connor said.

“Did they tell you what sort of place they wanted to move you into?” Hank asked

Connor shook his head.

“I’m sure it’ll be nice. I hear on the news all the time that Jericho is renovating a lot of abandoned places for housing. Bet a lot if it came out really nice,” Hank said slowly. He took a half step towards Connor, hands barely lifted from his side. “If you wanted.”

“I don’t think they really want me here,” Connor said. He tried not to linger on whatever it was he was feeling as the words slipped from his mouth. “I cause a lot of androids stress. It’ll be best for all of them if I wasn’t here.”

Hank’s hands moved again. They grabbed Connor by the arms and pulled him forward. Connor’s body went, as limp and pliable as when he let Reed drag him down to the basement. Hank could hurt him, shove him, shake him, and Connor just wanted to not care about it. He stood completely still as Hank carefully held the back of his neck, the other arm sliding across Connor’s back, and just held him. Connor was tucked against Hank’s body, wrapped around his limbs like an extra set of heavy clothing. Connor lifted his arms and replicated Hank’s hold on him. Connor held Hank the same way, keeping him close. This didn’t hurt. This didn’t seem so scary. It didn’t seem like Hank’s intention was to damage.

“I don’t know where to go, Hank. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I do everything wrong,” Connor said. He felt like every choice he had made was the wrong one. Even as a machine, with Amanda watching over him, he still made mistakes. Hank wouldn’t have hated him if he was better.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I promise you didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault. If you want to live here it’s okay, no one will be upset with you.” Hank whispered to him. Connor understood that this was a hug, this was meant to comfort him, but the words filtered uselessly through his head because he knew it wasn’t true.

He wanted to go back to not caring.

“Hank, I destroyed the last Jericho. Why would they want me here? Why would anyone want me here?” Connor said. He needed Hank to understand. Then maybe he could tell Hank what to do. Every direct order in his backlog didn’t create a clear picture of what his purpose was supposed to be now.

“If you don’t want to be here then you can stay with me. Or you can find your own place,” Hank said. He didn’t let go.

“I don’t belong at your place, Hank. You don’t want me there either,” Connor said.

Hank did let go. His arms dropped from Connor and he quickly pulled back. “Why would you think that?”

Connor blinked. Had he said something wrong again. Hank’s face was wrinkled and his hands curled tightly around Connor’s elbows, holding him at arm’s length.

“I said something wrong again?” Connor said.

What was it? Everything he had said was a fact. Everything had been proven through words and actions. He was a machine and machines dealt in facts and probabilities, not opinions and emotions.

“I know I’m bothering everyone. I know. I keep failing. Something’s wrong with me, I'm broken. I’m defective. They won’t fix me so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know how to be better,” Connor said quickly. Something in his coding was broken and had been from the start. He was the worst version of the RK800, it somehow felt wrong that he was the one that went deviant since he was so incredibly bad at it.

Hank didn’t say anything. Connor felt too much and he was ready to go back to the couch, close his eyes, and push everything back into place. The Zen Garden had only unraveled slightly. He can make it stop again. Connor’s body was moving, once again pulled against Hank and his arms crossed over Connor’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Hank said.

“I don’t want to be like this,” Connor said.

“I know. I’m sorry. I need you to tell me when you’re feeling like this. I want to help, okay. We can get you some help,” Hank said softly to him.

**_[Direct Order: Tell Me When You’re Feeling Like This]_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jericho: we think youre not safe with the human and would like to understand you better
> 
> Connor: If I cared, this could be considered an invasion of privacy but I dont care so go ahead
> 
> Markus: Hey I accidentally showed you our shared trauma of police violence
> 
> Connor, in tears: I dont fucking feel a thing 
> 
> Anyway, happier times are coming next. Connor gets a well deserved emotional break

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think
> 
> Author Update 07/07/2020 I am not currently in a position where I can write as often as I want to. I apologize for the delay in updates but I promise I am trying
> 
> [Here is another fic i post anonymously if you wanna check it out. It also has a lot of Connor angst in a post-canon where android drugs become a thing ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21443815/chapters/51098161)


End file.
